Telmarine Tower: Caspian's Quest
by King Caspian the Seafarer
Summary: AU fic - PC Bookbased. On the night that Miraz's son is born, Caspian fails to escape in time, due to a delay on the Great Tower. Dr. Cornelius manages to blow Queen Susan's horn, summoning the Pevensies back to Narnia. NOT SUSPIAN!
1. Captured

**Telmarine Tower**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**A/N: This is an AU (altered universe) fic that takes place in Prince Caspian. It begins the night that Miraz's son is born, and Caspian is told by Dr Cornelius that he must flee the castle.**

**One thing you should understand: the Caspian in this story is not Ben Barnes. He does not have a Spanish accent; it's British. He doesn't have black hair; it's blond. He is younger than the movie Caspian (who was 17) and older than the book Caspian (about 13). Caspian is _about_ 15 in this story.**

**This story is just one of two pieces. You see, I'm writing Caspian's POV, but my good friend, Queen Su, is writing Susan's POV, since Susan does come into this story. Like I said, it's AU. You can find the link to Susan's POV on my profile, or just look follow this link: ****/s/4436382/1/TelmarineTowerSusan**.

**This is not a Susan/Caspian romance (otherwise known as a SusPian or whatever). You may take it that way if you wish, but it is not intended to be a romance.**

**I would love any reviews or comments. You can flame. That's okay with me. Just tell me what you think. Please. ;)**

_This story is dedicated to my sister, Lucy, and friend, Susan, who helped me come up with this story._

**--Chapter 1--**

"He murdered your father."

I looked up in shock and disbelief at the calm certainty in my tutor's quiet voice; true, Miraz was an evil king, but was he really _that_ bad? Suddenly, the shock vanished and everything turned red as the words finally sunk in.

"He what?"

Cornelius looked at me with something akin to pity, but his eyes were firm.

"Caspian, I know it is hard to believe, but—"

"He murdered my father?"

I couldn't fathom it. A man who would kill his own brother…would kill his own _nephew_. Then a chill came over me as I realized the full truth in Dr. Cornelius' words.

"He murdered my mother too, didn't he."

My tutor's eyes filled with pain, and I knew it was true.

"That….that…"

I couldn't think of a word foul enough to describe my uncle.

_He will pay_, I swore to myself. _I will avenge them_.

"There is no time for this, my prince. You must fly at once. The danger is too great."

My head was swimming, and I hardly knew what was happening. Then I realized yet another awful truth.

"You're coming with me, aren't you?"

The Doctor looked down, and I knew what his answer would be.

"I cannot, my prince…my king. The danger is too great. You must fly South…to King Nain in Archenland. But first, here are two gifts."

He handed me a small purse of gold, and then another thing, smooth and white in the light from the moon.

"A horn?" I asked.

The confusion in my voice must have been evident, for Cornelius chuckled and said, "It is no ordinary horn. It is the magic horn of Queen Susan. It is the most valuable treasure I own. And it is said that whoever blows it shall have strange help."

We both looked at it for a moment, and then he grabbed my hand and began pulling me toward the trapdoor.

"We must go now," he said. "The danger grows."

We passed down the winding staircase, and I held the smooth horn in my right hand, rubbing my finger over it again and again. Queen Susan's horn. Then my mind flashed back to what I had learned. I had always wondered what had become of my parents. Miraz offered nothing but excuses when I had asked before, and had eventually had become so angry at the question that I dared not ask about them again.

But now I knew. And it made me want to kill something.

We rounded a corner, and suddenly found our passage blocked by five armed soldiers.

"Speak your names and business," their captain, a tall, sturdy man said sharply.

My heart stopped for a moment. We would be caught, and I would die. Like the rest of my family. Then the truth dawned on me. The thick robes…the darkness of the hall…they didn't recognize us.

"We are servants on an errand of great importance," said Dr. Cornelius as I waited in terrified silence.

"Where are you going?" the guard asked suspiciously. "Let me see your faces."

He held up his torch. Dr. Cornelius bent toward me, and hissed, "Run!"

I dodged the men and ran as quickly as I could to the stables, throwing off my heavy robe as I went. I could hear the soldiers shouting as they realized who I was, and that I had escaped, and I knew I would have but a few moments to leap onto Destrier and escape. My feet pounded heavily on the hard stone floor. Ahead, a servant girl was carrying a jug of water across the hall.

"Hey, you girl!" one of my pursuers cried, "Stop that boy!"

The girl glanced at me, and then stepped deliberately out of my way. With a quick "Thanks," I rushed by her.

Moments later, I heard a crash from behind me, and then the captain cursing angrily. I cast a hasty glance over my shoulder and saw that the girl had stepped in his way and smashed the water jug over his head. I grinned as I looked ahead of me, and then realized that before me was the door to the courtyard where Destrier was tied.

Gasping for breath, I flung open the door and stumbled toward the hitching post where Destier was. But before I could take another step, something hit my back between my shoulder blades with a 'thump', and I fell facedown onto the muddy grass. The blow knocked the wind out of me, and for an awful moment, I couldn't breathe.

Then, I forced myself to roll over, and I drew my sword. Standing over me was a stableboy, eyes narrowed suspiciously, about three years older than me. He held a pitchfork in his grubby hands.

"Hey lad," he said suspiciously, squinting down at me and at the sword in my hands, "What're you doin' in 'ere this late?"

I was still fumbling for words when the soldiers who had been chasing me suddenly appeared from the doorway into the castle. Desperately, I swung the flat of my sword at the boy's legs and managed to make him stumble back. I scambled to my feet and leapt at Destrier, but before I got to him, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I shouldn't have, but I looked back to see who it was. A huge fist hit me squarely in the jaw, knocking me down. As I fell, I grabbed the horn, and threw it toward a bush, hoping that no one saw my desperate action.

I hit the ground hard, landing on my leg. Somehow, I managed to keep hold of my sword, and I lifted it feebly to ward off my enemies. Then I heard a nasty chuckle, and another sword came out of nowhere, striking my right hand and slapping the sword away. I cried out in pain, grabbing my sword arm. The blow had sliced neatly across my hand and wrist, leaving a bad cut directly across my palm. Clutching my bloody hand, my head swimming, I barely heard a hatefully familiar voice say,

"What, nephew? Leaving so soon?"

Miraz.

A burst of anger replaced the pain as I remembered what my tutor had told me on the tower. Restraining my hate with great effort, however, I said nothing.

"Why were you leaving, little prince?" my uncle asked again.

And again, I remained silent. Miraz's sword traveled from by his side to under my chin. With a flick of his wrist, he forced my to look up at him.

"Why were you leaving?" he asked a third time, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

I couldn't restrain a sarcastic comment.

"And what reason do I have for staying?"

Miraz growled and lowered his sword to my throat, releasing my chin.

"Stubborn brat," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's useless trying to get any boy of Caspian's to tell something he doesn't want to."

Something inside me bubbled over, and I shouted,

"Leave my father out of this!"

Miraz suddenly grew colder as he heard the frantic, protective tone in my voice.

"What do you mean, boy?"

The tip of his sword barely pressed into my throat. A tear broke free and trickled down my cheek, the one I hoped my uncle couldn't see.

"Murderer."

The word came out as an accusation, low and soft and filled with undisguised hate. When he heard it, Miraz drew back for a moment, his faced shocked and pained, but then he was angry again.

"What was that?"

"You murdered them. Why, _Uncle_? Why did you murder my parents?"

I couldn't stop them. The words seemed to flow forth from all the unanswered questions I had lived with all my life. Miraz studied me coolly, and then said,

"Who told you a thing like that?"

I stuck out my chin defiantly, and glared up at my uncle. I knew as well as he did that the person who told me the truth about my parent's death was going against Miraz's orders, and would be counted as a traitor. If I gave in my professor, we would both die. If I didn't...none could tell.

Our wills clashed in a silent battle to see who was the more stubborn; our eyes, glittering black and bright blue, staring hard at each other. After a moment, Miraz sighed angrily and looked away.

"Very well, your highness," he said coldly, "If you don't want to tell me now, than you shall spend a night in the Dark Tower."

A shiver ran down my spine. The South tower, known as the Dark Tower, was the tower that all the most dangerous criminals stayed in before they were executed. It was said that Caspian the Seventh, my great grandfather, had been held captive there. Before he was executed by his brother.

My uncle let the threat sink in, but even though fear mingled with defiance in my eyes, I said,

"I will never tell you."

I meant it, too.

"Very well," Miraz replied, the icy chill in his voice sending shivers down my spine.

He gestured with his right hand and the Captain of the Guards appeared beside him.

"Take his royal highness to the Dark Tower," my uncle said. "And if he tries to escape…"

He pressed a bit harder with the tip of his sword, and pricked my neck, drawing a small steam of blood.

"…then kill him."

Miraz turned and stalked away. The soldiers bound my hands behind my back, and marched me away.

No one saw the dark figure creep into the courtyard. And no one saw the figure reach into the bush and retrieve a small, silvery object, shining bright in the moonlight. The figure raised the horn to its lips, and blew a single blast.

The horn echoed through the courtyard, and up into the halls where the guards were pushing me up the steep tower steps. I smiled grimly. Dr. Cornelius had blown the horn.

Now all that remained was to wait for the help, however strange it might be.

**_To Be Continued..._**


	2. Susan

**Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.**

**A/N: Special thanks to Ilada'Jefiv for bringing to my attention the idiotic mistake I made with the first publication of this chapter. I accidentally posted the first draft of chapter 3 on the end of this...but then changed the story line. ;) Please forgive my mistake, and ignore what you may have read previously on this chapter! **

-Chapter 2-

Have you ever been in a room so dark that you can't even see your fingers when you hold your hand up to your eyes? It's a bit frightening, especially if you've always been afraid of the dark, and you have a very strong feeling that there is something else in the darkness: something with fiery red eyes and very sharp teeth that wants to eat you.

My heart pounded in fear of the unknown as I pressed my back hard into the rough stone wall of the Dark Tower.

Perhaps my uncle was right about my overly active imagination. With a sigh, I forced myself to calm down, and took several deep breaths. The feeling that something else was nearby didn't go away, but I forced my thoughts away from that, knowing I had bigger problems to worry about than an imaginary monster.

Like why my uncle hadn't killed me yet.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the stone wall at my back was bitingly cold, and the thought that this might be my last night to sleep, ironically, kept me awake.

Miraz would kill me. As he had killed my father. Angry tears filled my eyes as I thought about my parents. I hadn't even known them. They had died when I was only two, or maybe even younger (the fact that I couldn't remember them made it seem likely that I had been just a babe). At least now I knew the truth about their deaths. Now, however, I tried hard to remember those early years when they were alive.

_How did they died?_ I wondered. _Was my mother afraid? Did my father and Miraz fight before the fatal moment? Was it very painful to die knowing that your child would be raised by your murderer?_

A hot tear rolled down my cheek and I quickly dashed it away. It wouldn't do to cry; tears would not help me escape, unless the guard was an old woman. Escape. The word sent shivers of hope down my spine. Was it possible? Caspian the VII had done it. I stood shakily and began to study my prison. It was no good. I couldn't see a thing.

_"Not all things can be discovered by sight, my prince,_" came Dr. Cornelius' chuckling voice from my memory.

Quickly, I closed my eyes and listened. The tower was filled with deafening silence. I listened harder, and eventually heard a soft rustling noise. Rats. I almost groaned, but knew that groaning wasn't going to get me out of this predicament either. Then I felt the slightest whisper of a breeze and smelt the fresh, Narnian air blowing in my face with a slight scent of pine. A window?

I opened my eyes and looked toward where the breath of wind had come from. Sure enough, five feet over my head near the roof of the tower, a tiny window let in the fresh summer air. Staring hard at it, I began to make out the small dots of light that I knew were the stars.

_No escape from that window_.

"What on earth am I to do?" I asked the darkness in despair.

As expected, nothing answered. There was nothing to do but sleep, I realized. I lay down on the cold, hard rock, and tried not to concentrate on the fact that it might be my last night alive.

I awoke with a start the next morning at a strange moaning noise. Jolting upright, my eyes stared hard into the dimly lit room. I scrambled back against the wall from the middle of the floor where I had rolled in my sleep, and then asked shakily,

"W-who's there?"

A small sigh came from the dark corner furthest from me, and a sleepy voice said, "Peter? Is that you? What time is it?"

At the unexpected sound of the voice, I gasped and peered as hard as I could into the darkness.

"This bed is beastly hard," the voice muttered.

It was another person. I could tell by the sound. But what was someone else doing in the Dark Tower? Was he a spy from my uncle? Who was he?

"Who are you?" I asked again, not quite as shakily this time.

"What?" the person said, obviously startled. "Where are you, Peter? I can't see a thing!"

I shook my head, though I knew the person couldn't see me.

"I'm over here, but my name isn't Peter."

There was a moment of shocked silence from the corner. I looked up at the window. It was clearly morning; a weak beam of light streamed down and barely lit the cell. I shielded my eyes from the light and stared hard, but I still couldn't see the other person.

"Where am I?" asked the voice. "And who are you?"

"Look," I said, glancing nervously at the corner, "it's awfully unnerving to speak to someone you can't see. Would you…" I stopped, for a figure was moving.

And the person who stepped into the light wasn't an assassin or a dangerous criminal. It wasn't a guard or soldier, or even a stable boy. It was a girl. The girl's hair was raven black, and she wore very strange, plain clothes. She watched me with a frightened look on her face.

"Is that better?" Her voice was soft, but it had an edge to it, as if it could easily slip into the role of bossing and nagging at one. She was likely an older sister.

"Y-yes," I stammered, transfixed as her piercing blue eyes bored into mine.

"Who are you?" she asked, those blue eyes narrowing into slits.

I looked at her incredulously. Was she just mocking me? There wasn't a person in the whole kingdom who didn't know me.

"You don't know?"

The girl raised her eyebrows in question, and then shook her head.

"Should I?"

"My name is Caspian," I said, bowing a little. My back was stiff and sore.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around our cell, and obviously forgetting that it was polite to give your own name in reply to an answer like mine.

"The Dark Tower," I said, graciously ignoring her apparent lack of manners.

She gave me an annoyed look.

"Yes, I gathered that we are in a tower, but _where_? There's not a tower like this anywhere near Finchley!"

"In the land of Narnia, of course!" I said impatiently. How simple did my answers have to be? Was she mad?

Her sapphire eyes widened in astonishment.

"Narnia?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

The girl's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Why should I tell you who I am?"

I sighed heavily, my patience finally coming to an end.

"All right, then. Have it your way. Be mysterious and don't tell me. Just because I answered both your questions and told you _my_ name doesn't mean you should tell me yours." My tone, I'm afraid, was very sarcastic. I'd put up with enough already, and I wasn't about to let some _girl_ give me something _else_ to worry about.

I heard a slight noise from the girl's side of the tower, and looked in her direction. She was standing up, her chin raised and her bright blue eyes flashing.

"I suppose you think you deserve to hear who I am?" she asked, matching my sarcasm.

"Well it is polite to introduce yourself," I shot back. "Who do you think you are?"

The girl tossed her raven black hair behind her shoulders, and raised her chin regally.

"I am Queen Susan the Gentle."

For once I was at a loss for words. This girl? _The _Queen Susan of the Golden Age? I couldn't help from laughing at the idea of it! The girl's cheeks grew red, and her flashing eyes warned me that I had better stop.

"Oh you think it's funny, do you?" she asked angrily.

"Rather!" I shot back. "It's not often one meets a queen from a thousand years ago!"

The girl grew pale.

"A thousand years? You must be joking."

"I'm not. It's been a thousand years since the Queen Susan you mentioned ruled Narnia." I was confused by the look on her face. She seemed horrified; shocked. "So what is your real name?"

"Susan," she said, sitting down and covering her face with her hands. "Susan Pevensie."

Again, she said her name was Susan. I suppose her parents didn't realize the danger of naming their child after one of the fabled monarchs. Miraz would be most angry; he might even have them killed if he knew.

"Is it really Susan?" I asked, still unsure.

"Of course it is," she replied sharply. "I do know my own name."

An uncomfortable silence settled upon us. The girl hadn't looked up yet. Her face was buried in her arms, and after a moment, I realized her shoulders were shaking. She was crying.

"I say, are you alright?" I asked, suddenly worried for this strange girl who had claimed to be a queen.

"Oh do go off and leave me alone!" she said bitterly. "It's all too much to understand!"

"What is?"

Susan looked up and glared at me from a tear streaked face.

"All this!" she gestured around at the tower. "And that I'm back in Narnia…a thousand years later!"

"What do you mean 'back in Narnia'?" I asked, apprehension entering my voice.

"I'm from another world," Susan said, her eyes filled with dread. "But I've been here before. At least, I think so."

"How did you get in this tower?" I inquired. "You weren't here last night."

"I don't know!" the girl replied, shrugging helplessly. "I fell asleep, and then woke up to…to this."

"Oh."

We were both silent for another moment, and then she began crying again. That disarmed me. I had never seen a girl cry before. In fact, I could hardly remember seeing a woman cry. My nurse had cried once. The night she told me of Old Narnia for the last time. The night she had mentioned Aslan.

Awkwardly, I edged over to the girl and touched her shoulder. She didn't look up. I let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean to make you angry. Please don't cry."

Finally, Susan looked up, and I got my first real look at her face. She had pale, smooth skin, and a few freckles on her cheeks. Her dark hair curled slightly where it fell down onto her forehead, and her large green-blue eyes glistened with tears. She smiled slightly.

"It's not your fault."

I shook my head.

"I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just didn't know what to expect. You meet so many strange people here."

"It's all right," Susan said, brushing away her tears and smiling again. "I won't hold it against you."

"Good," I said.

Susan looked around at the tower again.

"So where exactly is this tower…in Narnia, I mean? Are we in Cair Paravel?"

"No," I said, shaking my head at the strange name, "we're in my unc—I mean, Miraz's castle."

"Who is this Miraz?" Susan wanted to know. "The king?"

"King? Hardly," I stated bitterly. "He's an usurper. He murdered my—the true king for the throne."

"Was the true king—the one who was murdered, I mean—a good king?"

I could feel my face turning beet red.

"Of course he was! He was the best king Narnia ever had!" I stated, fiercely defensive of the father I had never known.

Susan turned red as well and glared at me.

"Not nearly as good as the High King Peter!" she shouted.

I gasped and put my finger to my lips. Her face filled with question. I jumped up and glanced out the barred window that was near the top of the heavy wooden door that led to the stairs. No guard. Good.

"What on earth—" Susan began.

"You mustn't speak of such things in such a loud voice," I interrupted, whirling around and looking sternly at her. "They'll take it as treason! Miraz doesn't believe in the kings and queens of old!"

"He doesn't believe in Peter and the rest of us? That's ridiculous!" Susan stormed, her eyes blazing. "I think you're lying. I think you're jealous of me—of us. I demand to be taken before any person of authority here. I'll get to the bottom of this."

"Please be quiet," I begged, gesturing for her to be silent. "You can't let them hear. Just trust me!"

She looked like she was about to say something else, but then stopped when she saw how serious I was.

"All right," she said finally. "But please tell me what's been going on."

And so I did. I told her about everything that had happened since the Telmarines, my ancestors, had invaded Narnia. I realized as I related the history of my country that I was lucky to have had Dr. Cornelius' teaching. With each story, Susan's eyes grew bigger, and I could tell that she was truly amazed by all of this. When I finished, she let out a strangled gasp and slumped back against the stone wall.

"So it really is Narnia," she murmured dazedly. "And it really has been a thousand years."

"You believe me," I said, relieved that at least someone did. "It's all true."

Susan shook her head; her eyes seemed fixed on some faraway place.

"It's so strange. Why would Aslan bring us back, only to have us find that it was no longer the Narnia we knew?"

I sat up, rapt with attention.

"You believe in Aslan?"

The girl looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Of course I believe in Aslan. I've seen him."

"You have?" I was on my feet in a moment. "What's he like? How many times have you seen him? Do you know how to find him?"

Susan raised an eyebrow at my eager questions. I suppose she didn't know what it felt like to realize that your daydreams and wishes, your fondest hopes and desires, are finally coming true.

"He's a lion," Susan said. "But it's rather hard to explain what he looks like. I suppose you'll have to wait until you see him to know what he's like. I've seen him many times. More times than most people. But what on earth do you mean by finding him?"

I sighed and sat back down; slowly, for my limbs were still sore from the night on the hard stone.

"Aslan hasn't been seen since the four Kings and Queens left Narnia. I always wondered if he was true. Everyone else thinks he's a fairy tale."

"A fairy tale!" Susan was on her feet again in a moment. "This is too much. Aslan a fairy tale! Really."

"Shhh," I warned, raising a finger to my lips. "Don't let them hear you say His name. They're afraid that Aslan might be real, so they don't allow anyone to talk about Him."

Susan sighed and sat back down.

"It's all too much to believe," she said sadly.

My stomach growled. The last meal I'd eaten had been the night before, and it was well past breakfast time now. Susan licked her lips.

"Is there any chance of getting some breakfast?" she asked with a small smile.

**_TBC..._**


	3. Tempted

**Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.**

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! My co-author took a long long time to FINALLY post (jk Su!). ;) This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. Please review!**

* * *

_Chapter 3_

"Is there any chance of getting some breakfast?"

Was she joking? I raised an eyebrow, and then noticed the small smile on her face. Just joking.

"Very funny," I said, rubbing my aching stomach with a sigh.

Susan coughed. I looked over at her.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," she remarked, with what I now realized was an embarrassed smile. "I haven't eaten since last night…well, maybe since lunch yesterday."

I smiled humorlessly.

"Neither have I."

She shook her head and gave me a strange look.

"What's wrong? Don't people eat breakfast in Narnia anymore?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed yet again.

"Most people do. But not the prisoners."

"I am not a prisoner," Susan stated coldly.

I shook my head, and wondered how she _couldn't_ have come to the conclusion that we were captives. We were in a dark, smelly tower. It's not like people would voluntarily come into places like this. Or sleep in them.

"This is the Dark Tower. We're prisoners here. Or at least, I am."

Susan shook her head uncertainly.

"The Dark Tower? What's that?" she asked. "This is impossible!"

"Well then, what are we doing here?" I asked suddenly, my patience leaving me and hot anger flaring through my veins. "If it's so impossible that we're here, why don't we just leave? Why don't we just suddenly decide that this isn't reality and disappear from this tower?"

Angry tears sprung to my eyes as I turned away, but I blinked them back. Why couldn't I just have a tower to myself, away from this sharp-tongued girl and my uncle? I'd been through too much in the past 24 hours to put up with any more. I heard a sigh from the girl's part of the cell.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

I heard her get up, and then felt a gentle hand on my shoulder; I quickly shrugged it off.

"Look…Caspian," Susan said, her tone sharpening slightly, "If we're going to escape, hadn't we better make pax and be friends?"

"Pax?"

I looked back at her, and she blushed and gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Pax. Peace. No more fighting."

"Oh." I thought it over for a moment, and then sighed again. "All right, then…pax."

"Good." Susan sat down across from me and looked at me intently. "How did you get in here in the first place?"

"The King—Miraz—thinks I'm a traitor."

Susan's dark eyebrow shot up.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" I protested. "I didn't do anything. He wants me dead."

"But why?" Susan persisted. "I mean, why is the King interested in a common boy like you?"

I felt my face turn red, but grabbed hold of my anger before it got loose again.

_She doesn't know that I'm not common. She doesn't need to know. She isn't from here. If I were common, I wouldn't be in all this trouble. Be. Calm._

With some difficulty, I managed to hold back the outburst that desperately longed to escape my lips. Instead, I managed to look innocent and put my head to one side.

"How should I know?"

Instantly, my conscience twinged. Why did I have to lie to her? Maybe if I told her I was Miraz's nephew…but no. What good would it do? Wouldn't she hate me for being the enemy's closest relation? Besides, even if she did know, it wouldn't make anything different.

"But why you? Why not every other peasant who talks treason?" the girl asked again.

Peasant. My tongue ached to reveal that I was not a peasant. Nevertheless, I bit my tongue and managed not to speak my secret.

"How should I know?" I asked again, trying to put some of the innocent helplessness I'd seen in many peasants into my words.

Susan raised that dark eyebrow again, an expression I was becoming painfully familiar with.

"You know, there's something very strange about you," she said, her tone still questioning, watching me as if seeking an answer.

"I could say the same of you," I replied hastily, glancing down at the ground to avoid her gaze.

Susan shook her head and sighed again.

"I suppose. Very well, then. We're in the land of Narnia, held captive in a 'Dark Tower' in a Telmarine castle. Your name is Caspian. The King's name is Miraz. He thinks you're a traitor. Have I got that all right?"

I nodded hesitantly, but didn't meet her eyes. I heard her stand up and walk over to the door.

"What about you?" I asked, leaning back against the wall and giving her a curious look. "You say you fell asleep and then woke up here?"

Susan sighed and pulled her knees up under her chin, nodding uncertainly.

"Ye-s," she said, as if she wasn't quite sure. "I'm from another world, but I've been here before. I fell asleep, and had a nightmare…then I woke up here."

"Another world?"

She must have seen the skeptical expression on my face, for the girl sighed and turned away.

"Yes. You don't have to believe me; not many people would, but it's true."

As I watched her, taking in every detail about her, from her long black tresses to her odd clothing, I was shocked to find that I did believe her. There was something about her—some mysterious air in the way she moved and spoke—that hinted that, not only was she from another world, but she was also someone very important. Perhaps…a Queen?

"I believe you," I heard my voice say, and then turned red when I realized how young and naïve I sounded.

But Susan turned toward me in surprise, astonishment in every line of her face. I turned away in embarrassment, but then I heard her voice, very softly, reply, "Thanks."

I swallowed, and looked back at her with a very small grin. But then, the expression on my face froze when the sound of echoing footsteps on the stair reached my ears.

"The guards," I breathed, terror replacing the grin. "They're coming."

Bewilderment and fear furrowed Susan's brow, and her eyes widened.

"Guards?"

I nodded wordlessly, and then glanced worriedly at the door.

"I'm supposed to be alone in here. There's no telling what they'd do…"

"If they found _us_," Susan finished, terror filling her face too.

The steps were getting closer. Luckily, they were probably still near the middle of the stair, as it was a long climb up, and the echoes had most likely begun when they had started the climb. I glanced around the tower hastily, trying to spot anything that could hide my friend. Finally, my gaze fell on the small pile of straw beside the door. The hay was kept in the dungeons and towers for the prisoners to spread on the floor to provide at least one layer of protection from the cold stone. It was usually moldy and smelly, but it was better than nothing.

"Quick! The straw," I hissed, grabbing Susan's arm and pulling her toward the door.

"The straw?" came her whispered protest. "But it's moldy…and what if they notice anyway? Or decide to change the straw in here?"

"We'll have to risk it," I replied, giving her a worried glance as she climbed into the pile, and then beginning to cover her with the stale straw. "If they catch you, or if you find a way to get out of here, go to my professor, Dr. Cornelius. He's here in the castle. Tell him you're a friend of mine."

"But what about—" she began, but I held up my hand.

The guards were at the door, and now one was fumbling with the lock. I cast a few more handfuls of straw over Susan's head, managing to cover her up as she pushed down into the pile, and then threw myself toward the other side of the tower, hoping that I could at least try to draw their attention away from the straw.

I was just in time, for the lock clicked loudly, and the door swung open with a creak. Two soldiers, neither of them wearing a sword, entered the room. One of them carried a small tin plate, which held a fairly large hunk of fresh bread which I could smell—even from across the room—and a tin cup. The man holding the plate set it down on the floor, and gave me an irritated glare.

"All the long walk up the tower to give the prince his breakfast. And now we've got to walk all the way back down again, and then back up again tomorrow morning. Enjoy your meal, your highness," he sneered, giving me a kick in the leg, and then turning and striding out of the room lazily.

I lunged toward the bread, nearly faint with hunger. But then the second guard snatched the plate up again, standing above me with a frown.

"That's not what the King said, Jarak," the second man said, fingering the plate as he watched me. "The prince may have his breakfast…if he tells us what we want to know."

My stomach growled, and I swallowed hard. They wanted me to tell them about Dr. Cornelius. My mouth began watering, and I clenched my jaw, staring long and hard at the bread.

"That's right, princey," said Jarak, giving me what was no doubt meant to be an encouraging smile. "Just tell us what we want to know, and cook'll bake you a whole loaf of fresh bread. Just give us the name of the traitor."

The smell of the bread floated by me, and I swallowed again. My stomach rumbled hungrily.

_I'm so hungry, _I thought, licking my lips and imagining what the bread would taste like.

_This is about more than just bread, Caspian, _said another voice inside my head._ Would you betray your dearest friend in the world, who would have saved your life, for a paltry piece of bread? Miraz will kill you anyway, if you do._

Thus reminded, I bit my lip, forcing my eyes away from the plate.

"I can't," I choked, blinking back tears of disappointment.

Jarak raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.

"Well now. It looks like his highness isn't as hungry as he appears." He elbowed his friend. "Don't worry, Brind. A couple more days of this, and he'll betray his precious traitor for a bite of worm-ridden bread that the pigs wouldn't eat. I've seen it done."

He gave me another nasty grin, and picked up the bread. Slowly, deliberately, he ripped it in two.

"Here, Brind," he said, handing one piece to his friend without moving his gaze, which was locked on my eyes. "Have some bread."

With big, luxurious bites, and long, cheerful sighs of obvious enjoyment, the two guards devoured the bread within a matter of seconds. My stomach growled again. When they were through, Jarak began setting down the cup of water. But then, he changed his mind, throwing the cup toward me and splashing me with the cold water.

"No water either, until you talk," he jeered, dropping the empty cup on the ground, so that it fell with clatter, and turning to go again. "We'll be back tomorrow, princey. Think about it. You can either do this the hard way, or the easy way. It'll be done in the end either way."

Then, leaving me with this last encouraging thought, Jarak and Brind left the tower, slamming the door and locking it with a click. Eventually, the sound of their footsteps died out, along with the sound of Jarak's grumbling about having to climb so many stairs.

The smell of fresh bread lingered in the air. Slowly, jerkily, I wiped the water out of my eyes, and off my face. My hair and most of my tunic was soaking wet. My stomach rumbled again. I drew my knees up to my chest and closed my eyes, swallowing hard and trying to blink back tears of frustration.

A soft rustle of straw came from by the door, and moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and saw Susan, staring down at me with such pity and sorrow that I had to look away so that she wouldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.

We sat in silence for a few moments, neither of us moving after she sat down next to me. Finally, she spoke.

"Why? Why are they doing this?"

Her voice was full of emotion, as if she was really sorry for me. At this, tears filled my eyes again. No one had ever been so sympathetic; not since my Nurse had anyone, save Dr. Cornelius, truly cared.

"They want information. I know something that Miraz wants to know, and he is determined to get it."

My voice sounded hoarse with lack of sleep, and lack of water. I cleared it experimentally, and then winced at the dryness.

"He called you 'prince', and 'your highness'," Susan said tentatively, though it was more of a question than a statement.

I flinched. That was the part of the guards' talk that I hoped she hadn't heard. Against my better judgment, I decided again that I simply could not tell her the truth, even though I wanted to.

"It's sort of a joke among the guards," I told her, swallowing my revulsion at having to lie to her. "I'm _definitely_ not Miraz's son, which is the only way that I would be a prince."

_The only way _now_, anyway_, I thought with a fresh pang of sorrow.

"But I thought you said something about another king…"Susan began, but halting abruptly as she saw the look on my face. "I'm sorry."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, but both of us jumped when a loud crack of thunder crashed outside. It was so loud, that for a moment, I thought that lightning had struck the tower, and it was falling. Susan screamed and ducked, though there was nothing to duck from. I backed up against the wall until I could see out the window near the top. The sky was dark with grey clouds, though they were so dark that they looked almost purple. Summer storms were common in Narnia, arriving so quickly that one moment, the sun was shining and everything was warm and calm, but instants later, black thunderclouds filled the sky, and cold rain soaked the earth and everything on it.

Lightning flashed, filling the inside of the Dark Tower with a fierce, white light. Susan screamed something, some name that sounded vaguely familiar, though I was too frightened to remember why. Rain began to pelt the stone roof of the tower. Then the wind began to blow the rain into the window. Susan and I both gasped as the icy rain fell on us, so cold that it nearly took my breath away.

"Over here," I shouted above the noise of the storm, grabbing Susan's hand and pulling her over to one side of the tower, where the rain could not get us.

The relief was instantaneous and gratefully received. Susan sank to her knees, leaning against the wall and shivering and rubbing her arms. I sat down next to her, shivering too, though it was not the freezing rain that had made my blood run cold. When the lightning had flashed in the room, filling everything with blindingly white light, I had seen something. Even though I had closed my eyes, the light shone through, and it was then that I saw the thing that made me tremble, though I wasn't sure why: the face of a lion.

Eventually, my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off to sleep. I heard Susan moving away from me, and then I heard the clinking of tin, but then the world around me disappeared into darkness.

_**TBC...**_


	4. Visitor

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the HORRIBLE wait. ;) I can't blame Su this time, though. My own fault, but this summer we'll hopefully be able to finish this story. Enjoy, and please review!**

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_Chapter 4_

I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of the lock turning in the heavy tower door. It was pitch-black inside the tower; so dark that—for a moment—I had positively no idea where I was, or even who I was. But as the door began creaking open, I drew in a quick breath and pressed my back up against the wall.

Something weighed heavily on my shoulder. I touched it, and felt something soft and smooth. Hair? It was then that I realized how cold I was—cold, all except for my left side.

_Susan_, I realized. _She must've fallen asleep next to me. With her head on my shoulder…ugh…_

The door creaked again; there was no light at all from where the invisible door opener was standing. No light from the lantern or candle that should have accompanied the sound.

Susan stirred, and then, as the door creaked all the way open, she started awake.

"C-Caspian?" she whispered.

I somehow found her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. As she squeezed mine back, I wondered if her brother felt like this when there was some danger: not so much afraid, but more protective of her.

"Quiet, Su. Someone's coming in the door."

We both waited in silence. It was horrible, listening to the invisible footsteps of our midnight visitor, and then hearing the door creak shut again, torturing slowly. At last, just when I thought I would go mad from the suspense, a tiny light flared from the general direction of the door.

Susan tried to scream, but it came out a squeak. I moved a few inches out from the wall so I could get between her and the thing. But then, as it came slowly toward us, a voice said:

"Be calm, my prince. I mean you no harm."

I jumped, but then, as the figure held the candle up to its face, I let out a long sigh of relief.

"Dr Cornelius!"

My professor's wrinkled face was dreadfully somber, but he did smile slightly at this.

"It is I, Caspian. We must be silent, for though the guards at the bottom of the stair did not see me pass, they are awake and listening—at least, they were when I passed them."

"It was good of you to come," I said, smiling slightly and shivering. "It's terribly lonely up here."

"This is not a mere social call, my prince," the professor retorted sharply. "Might I remind you that your life hangs in the balance—a very twisted balance."

He hesitated, and then glanced to my left—finally noticing Susan.

"What's this? A girl?" he asked in astonishment, holding the candle out toward her so that the light reflected off her black hair. "But how can this be? I had heard that the tower was empty, and that you were held captive alone."

I nodded.

"That's what I heard too. And then Susan appeared out of the blackness the night I was thrown in here, and—"

"Susan?" Dr Cornelius' voice was low, but filled with a rich excitement that made my skin tingle. "Could it be possible?"

"Could what be possible?" I asked, glancing first at Susan and then at my professor.

Dr Cornelius held out a hand to Susan, and she accepted it gracefully.

"Could it be that you, my lady, are Queen Susan the Gentle, ruler of Narnia during the Golden Age?"

Susan's face lit up with a gratifying smile, seeming almost to glow from happiness in the candle light.

"I am, indeed, Queen Susan."

My professor bowed low.

"I am your humble servant, milady, and the one who called you into this world by the blowing of your horn."

"My horn?" Susan frowned. "So that's what brought me here!? How curious."

Dr Cornelius nodded.

I, meanwhile, stared on in thunderstruck silence. At last, I managed to speak.

"Wait…you can't mean that she really _is_ Queen Susan…I mean, she can't be any older than I am. Not even as old probably."

"She certainly is, young Caspian," the professor replied sharply. "And you would do well to pay her the respect due to a true Queen of Narnia."

Susan gave me a somewhat smug smile, and I felt a strangely powerful urge to stick my tongue out at her. Instead, I merely nodded cordially and said, "My apologies, _Your Majesty_."

The words felt hollow on my lips, and I'm sure even Susan felt the sarcasm, though she pretended not to. Dr Cornelius watched us with a bemused expression.

"If this isn't a social visit, then why have you come?" I asked suddenly, thinking how peculiar it felt to have a visitor in a dungeon tower in the dead of night. "It obviously wasn't to meet Queen Susan."

The Doctor nodded.

"That did come rather as a surprise—though a good one, milady, make no mistake. But you are right, Caspian, in that I climbed the long, dark stair of this tower tonight for quite another reason altogether."

He cast a worried glance at the door, and then motioned for us all to be seated.

"You know, Caspian, the reason I urged you to flee this castle. And in all logic and reasoning, you should be dead right now, not wasting away in a tower held prisoner. But it appears the king has thrown reason to the wind. Have you any idea of why he…"

"Why he hasn't killed me yet?" I completed the Doctor's sentence dryly. "I think I have some idea. He believes there to be a traitor in the castle who aided me on my attempted escape and told me the truth about my father's death. It is the traitor's identity he seeks."

"Ah." Dr Cornelius bent his face away from the shadows so that I could not see what he was thinking. "So once the king has found the traitor…"

"My life will be worth nothing to him," I finished grimly.

There was a very long moment of silence as my professor pondered this new development. Susan's eyes darted back and forth from Dr Cornelius' face to mine, her expression asking dozens of questions that she dared not ask. At last, she seemed to decide on one.

"Why is your life so important to the king? I thought you were a peasant—a nobody."

The look on Dr Cornelius' face as he turned to me made me want to burst out laughing. It was a confusion that I had never seen grace the features of my professor before—utter astonishment, even. I shook my head as he mouthed the word 'peasant' with a questioning look.

"And why does everyone keep calling him 'prince'?" Susan continued, giving me a wary look. "He said it was just a joke among the guards, but now you've called him a prince so it can't be just that."

"You haven't told her?" Dr Cornelius asked me, his voice low.

"Told me what?" Susan asked frantically.

I ignored her and shook my head in response to my professor's question.

"Why on earth not?"

I glanced at the girl, and then looked back at Dr Cornelius.

"Right now, the fewer people know who I am, the better."

"Who you are? Does that mean you really _are_ a prince? Why can't you tell me? I told you I was a queen!"

I sighed and shook my head wearily, turning away from the light and sinking down beside the wall. I could feel their eyes follow me, but I suppose they both realized that I was through. Susan was the next person to speak.

"I don't suppose you have any food with you?"

My professor sighed and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no. I had no idea, when I began the climb up the winding stair, if I would even see you. Have they not given you food?"

My stomach rumbled angrily, and I answered him.

"No. They said I was not to eat until I spoke."

Silence. A moment later, Susan spoke again.

"Dr Cornelius, is there any way out of this tower? Any chance at all that we might escape?"

My professor pondered this question in silence for a very long moment, and then began mumbling as he thought. At last, his wrinkled face brightened in the dim candlelight, and he nodded.

"There is said to have been a tunnel under one of the stone blocks of the tower that leads to escape. I believe it was Caspian VII who was imprisoned in this very tower, and then escaped through the tunnel. He was captured and put to death before he could leave the castle, of course, but that's hardly part of a normal escape plan."

"Why have you never told me of this?" I asked, suddenly very interested in their conversation. "I never heard of any escapes from this tower."

Dr Cornelius smiled at me and shook his head.

"Might it please your high—er, you to remember, young Caspian, that history was never a priority on your list of studies. You have doubtless heard the tale, but most likely it 'went in one ear and out the other', as the old saying goes."

"How does one find this tunnel?" I asked, standing and pacing around the floor, staring intently into the darkness at my feet in an attempt to see what might be our only chance of escape.

"As I said, it was told to be under one of the stones in the floor. I'm sure no one has used the passage since Caspian VII, and it is likely that the king after Caspian's death had it filled it. Who knows if it can still be used?"

I sighed and slumped to the floor again against the wall.

"I knew it. Our only chance of escape—filled in by some long dead king who shared my name." I put my head in my hands. "We're doomed."

I heard Susan giggle slightly. I knew I was being terribly pessimistic, but right now, things didn't look so bright in my future. Darkness and death seemed to be all that awaited me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up into the wise face of Dr Cornelius once more.

"Have hope, my prince," he whispered gently. "Aslan is in charge of this situation—not your uncle."

I nodded solemnly, but then looked down again.

"But Doctor…what if I can't get away from here? I'll stay here forever in this hole until I die or Miraz kills me."

Strangely, my professor did not reply instantly. Instead, he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and waited for a moment.

"Have hope, my prince," he repeated. "You have yet a part to play in Aslan's plan, I think."

He rose and turned to Susan, bowing gracefully and kissing the back of her hand, which she offered like a queen.

"As do you, my lady. Do not let this young curmudgeon dampen your everlasting spirit and hope. May your light penetrate his darkness and show him the way of Aslan."

The figure with the candle moved toward the heavy door of the tower, and suddenly I realized how dark and lonely the tower felt without a candle and a kind word from my professor.

"Wait, Doctor—" I rose and took a faltering step toward the door, but Dr Cornelius shut the door carefully behind him.

"I have no time to spare, my prince," he whispered sadly through the bars on the door. "If I return—when I return, Aslan willing!—I will bring food and water with me."

"But Doctor—" a lump in my throat constricted my voice, and I reached through the bars. "Please…"

The look in his eyes mirrored my misery.

"I know, my prince. Loneliness is the most abominable thing introduced to mankind—and dwarf-kind alike. Be brave, Caspian. Protect the queen, and do what you know to be right. May the Lion be with you!"

And with that he was gone—blowing out his candle and disappearing into the darkness. I stepped back from the door, glad for once that I was surrounded by darkness so Susan could not see the tears that were filling my eyes. With a heavy sigh, I plopped down in my corner and tried to get comfortable.

"I'm sorry, Caspian," Susan said from a few feet away. "Loneliness _is_ horrid."

Her voice sounded small and afraid in the huge darkness. I forced myself to swallow my self pity, and reached out for her. Our hands met, and I gave hers an encouraging squeeze.

"It's all right, Susan. As long as I'm here, you won't be alone."

She sniffed and said, "Same for you."

"Tomorrow," I continued, trying to sound as optimistic as possible, "we'll start looking for that tunnel—or at least for the rock the tunnel is underneath. I'm sure we'll be out of here in no time."

My sudden cheer seemed to work. When she spoke again, Susan's voice was lighter, and she sounded a bit braver than she had been.

"In that case, we'd better get some sleep. Who knows how long we have before something else happens."

**_TBC..._**


	5. Torture

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia.**

**A/N: Chapter 5 is a bit darker than the others. I thank you all for being so patient while Su and I put it together, for this is really the first big chapter in which our sides are different. ;) Enjoy, and please review!!!**

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_Chapter 5 _

"My back hurts."

With a moan, I rolled over to face Susan's side of the tower where she was struggling to find a comfortable position on the straw strewn stone.

"Lay on your side, then," I retorted grumpily, flipping over again.

Susan huffed as she tried another position, and then gave up with an exasperated groan.

"Why are these stones so pointed?" she grumbled. "My back is killing me. It's positively impossible to get comfortable."

I graciously ignored her complaining, simply rolling my eyes and pressing my back against the stone wall of the tower. Suddenly, we heard steps outside the door. Susan and I instantly sat up, and my eyes darted to the bale of hay beside the door.

"Not again!" Susan moaned, wrinkling her nose at the moldy hay.

"Hide, quickly!" I hissed, scrambling back with a worried glance at the door.

Mere seconds after the girl managed to hide herself in the hay, I heard someone fumbling with the lock, and then the door swung open.

To my dismay, Jarak and Brind stepped into the room, the latter with his sword drawn. My throat went dry, and I couldn't force out the words that I wanted to speak. _Has Dr Cornelius been discovered? Are they going to kill me?_

I shrank back against the tower wall, away from the men. Jarak stepped forward, giving me an impatient glare.

"Come on, boy," he muttered, "I didn't climb all those stairs for you to put up a fight."

He jumped forward and grabbed my arm with ungentle hands. When Brind saw that Jarak had me caught, he sheathed his sword. Jarak pulled my hands behind me roughly and bound them. He knotted the rope so well that it bit into my wrists as he gave it a final tug.

"Move," Brind ordered, giving me a shove toward the door.

As I passed the hay, I barely glimpsed a pale, worried face staring out at me. I forced myself to look away so my friend would not be discovered.

The men led me down the steep tower stair, all the way to the courtyard that is mainly reserved for executions. Jarak spent the trip grumbling about the long climb, as usual, and Brind would shove in his oar every now and then. My anxiety grew with each step, and I watched for any chance to make an escape. At last, a chance presented itself. We arrived at the gate of the courtyard, and my two guards spoke with a soldier who was guarding the gate. As he spoke, Jarak loosened his grip on my arm ever so slightly. With a quick jerk and a sharp turn, I wrenched myself free of the soldier's beefy hand and began to run.

Actually, it was a very badly thought-out plan. I had no idea where I was running, or what I would do when I got there. I only knew that I had to get away.

A root from a tree mere paces away from where I had begun to run halted my escape. I wasn't watching where I was going, and my foot caught on the root, tripping me instantly. I tried to put out my hands, but then a sudden pain in my wrists reminded me that they were securely bound behind me. I landed on my side, a blow that winded me, stunned me from moving any further, and twisted my arm underneath me.

Gasping for breath, I lay on the ground, my heart sinking considerably as I heard the running feet of the soldiers I had just escaped from. Then I saw a pair of brown boots in front of my face. They looked extremely familiar, and I remembered where I had seen them only after the boot had landed in my stomach, winding me further.

I looked up and saw again the dark face of my uncle watching me with disgust.

"Trying to escape?" he asked softly, driving his boot into my stomach again.

I was too winded to reply, probably a good thing; for the thoughts that were racing through my mind would doubtless have earned me naught but another kick. Jarak reached us and bent over me, seizing my arm so tightly that I almost moaned aloud in pain.

"Stand up, you," he grunted, hauling me to my feet by my arms.

The agony in my shoulders was so intense that I caught my breath. My uncle watched with a satisfied expression on his face.

"So, your highness," he began mockingly, "have you decided to tell us the name of the traitor?"

Relief filled my heart. They hadn't learned who it was. As I struggled for air and found myself unable to speak, I simply shook my head. Miraz's face darkened like a sunny day is darkened by a thunderstorm and clenched his jaw.

"I warn you, Caspian, I care naught for your life. If you tell me who the traitor is, your life will be spared. If you do not…" he let his words trail off threateningly. "The choice is yours."

He let his words sink in, and I foolishly allowed my spirits to rise. He only wanted the name of the traitor. I could tell him about Dr Cornelius, and then he would set me free. But then I remembered the conversation with my professor, and knew that my uncle would kill me whether he promised me life or not. With this in mind, I clenched my teeth and shook my head again.

"I have already given you my answer," I stated, sounding much bolder than I felt.

Miraz's face filled with anger, and he made a sudden movement with his hand.

"Take his highness to the courtyard and give him five lashes. Let us see if the whip will loosen his tongue."

"Yes, my lord," Jarak mumbled, tightening his grip and dragging me toward the courtyard that we had been about to enter before I had attempted to escape. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the pain in my wrists and shoulders, knowing that soon, they would hurt much, much worse. A flogging. They meant to use force to get me to reveal my secret.

When we reached the center of the courtyard, the guard unbound my hands and tied them to a wooden pole. The ache in my shoulders faded for a moment, but I knew that the relief was only momentary. Behind me, I heard the sharp crack of a whip and knew that I had only a matter of seconds to steel myself.

_Give me strength, Aslan. Don't let me tell them,_ I prayed frantically.

I heard the snap, and crack over my head, and then my body jerked forward.

Two seconds later, my back exploded in searing pain. I let out a muffled cry, but managed to keep from screaming aloud. The whip they were using was one chosen for a quick but effective means of extracting information. The leather was studded with bits of broken glass that practically shredded the victim's back.

The second blow came. This time, the impact of the whip on my back and the pain that came with it hit at the same time. I fell to my knees and bit my lip so hard it bled, but didn't cry out.

The third was very much the same. My teeth were clenched so hard that my jaw ached, but still I made no sound.

At the fourth crack of the whip, however, my resolve faded almost completely away. The pain was too intense; the hurt burning so hot that I could hardly think.

_I can't bear it, Aslan!_ I thought feverishly. _Make it stop…please…_

I screamed in agony when the fifth lash came, unable to hold the in sound any longer.

_Dear Aslan…_

Mercifully, the whip stopped after the fifth. My head swam with the pain that came from the stripes across my shoulders. I saw my uncle's boots standing in front of me.

"Tell us the name of the traitor," Miraz commanded, his voice cold and detached.

I tried to lift my head, but my strength was almost gone. Yet to not meet his gaze would be to admit defeat, so slowly, with great effort, I raised my face and met his eyes. The look in my eyes seemed to slightly unnerve him, but my uncle did not move.

"Well, boy?" he asked mockingly. "Lost your sharp tongue?"

I gathered the strength to speak and then spoke slowly and evenly, trying desperately to sound determined.

"I will never tell you."

Miraz's face twisted into an angry expression, and his dark eyes flashed wickedly.

"Stubborn brat; you will tell sooner or later. If you want to do it the hard way," he shrugged indifferently, "than it's no care of mine."

He turned to the man who held the whip.

"I'm through with him for today."

I could have fainted with relief—until I heard my uncle's next words.

"Give him five more, and then return him to the tower."

I hardly heard the grunt from the man as my uncle turned away, leaving the courtyard. The crack and snap came like clockwork within the next five seconds. My resolve gone, I cried out at every stroke of the whip.

_Please, Aslan…make them stop…_

At the ninth lash I could last no longer, and with one last hoarse scream, my world faded into darkness.

When I came to, I found myself being thrown into the cold, dark tower by Jarak and Brind. The door clanged behind me, and I heard the guards conversing loudly as they marched down the stair.

"Why do I always get the jobs that are up and down long staircases?" Jarak grumbled.

"You get the easy jobs," retorted Brind. "Just be happy you aren't the executioner. Imagine having to kill someone every other day..."

As soon as they were out of hearing, I heard a soft rustle of straw.

"Caspian?" came Susan's voice, aghast. "What on earth have they done? Are you all right?"

I felt her at my side and a gentle hand on my shoulder. It stung horribly. I cried out involuntarily at the sudden pain, and she moved her hand back at once.

"Of course you're not all right," she chided herself. "Speak to me," she begged, feeling my forehead. "Please, Caspian! Say something. Anything!"

"Susan?" I murmured, lifting my head slowly and painfully, and gazing up at her worried, pale face.

"Yes?" she replied, looking a bit more relieved at the sound of my voice, hoarse as it was.

I moistened my lips and put my head back down on the cold, hard stone. Before the darkness took me, I managed three more words.

"My back hurts."

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_**TBC….**_


	6. Hate

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. **

**A/N: I hadn't realized until I finished writing this chapter how pitiful poor Caspian is. This is what I do to vent, you see. Beat up on my favorite characters. ;) I know...I'm evil. But the next chapter at last...this is taking forever, I know, and I do apologize. Hopefully now that M&M is wrapped up I can get back to writing on my other stories. So without further ado...**

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_Chapter 6_

The next morning, I awoke to see the sun shining in the small window, and Susan sleeping on a small pile of hay. For a moment, I didn't remember what had happened the previous day, but I was reminded as soon as I tried to sit up.

Ripping, aching pain in my back. Flames burning my shoulders until the nerves were raw.

I gasped, and rested my head on the cool stone for a moment. Then I raised my head again, a bit more slowly this time. Finally, when I was in a sitting position, I leaned back against the stone wall. The rock pressed painfully against my raw back, but the coolness of it spread across my wounds and seemed to extinguish the flame that caused the ache.

My back feeling slightly better, I turned my eyes to Susan. It was the first time that I had seen her asleep; usually it was too dark to see her, so it was with interest that I watched her breathe in and out, steadily and peacefully. Her dark hair was draped across her shoulders, and even though it was tangled, she still looked like a queen. I was almost ready to believe that she was the Queen Susan from the old tales.

Susan stirred in her sleep, and then her eyes fluttered open. She stared at me for a full five seconds before she fully noticed me sitting there.

"Caspian!"

In an instant she was up, and then kneeling beside me, her hand touching my shoulder gently.

"How are you feeling?"

I gave her an innocent look and shrugged, wincing when my lashes twinged at the sudden movement.

"Fine."

Susan frowned and pursed her lips skeptically.

"How is your back?"

I looked away toward the door.

"It's a little sore. Doesn't hurt that badly."

Susan gave me a look that showed she didn't believe a word I had said.

"What?" I asked, shrugging—and wincing—again at the look on her face. "It's true!"

The look on her face didn't go away. Somehow I knew that she knew that I was lying. Suddenly, Susan stood up, holding out a hand.

"Come on, then," she said cheerily. "Get up. I have something to show you."

Uncertainty flooded my eyes, and a confused expression covered my face.

"Get up..._now_?"

"Why not?" Susan asked brightly, giving me an overly cheerful smile. "If you're perfectly fine—as you so persistently _insist_ that you are—than it shouldn't be a problem for you, should it?'

She grabbed my hand, and pulled me up. The quick jerking motion of her pull tore through the scabs on my back, and the pain flooded back in full force. I let out a short cry, and then my head began to swim. Slowly, painfully, I lowered myself back down to the floor, my teeth gritted to keep from screaming. Susan watched me with a look of amused tolerance, and also sympathy.

"Really, Caspian. I have brothers—two of them—and they are both as stubborn as you are about admitting they're hurt. If I didn't know every trick in the book for making them understand that they really _are_ injured and really _do_ need medical attention, neither of them would be alive right now."

I took several ragged breaths, struggling to stay conscious as my back burned, aching like it was aflame. Susan watched me carefully, and a sharper, more worried look entered her eyes.

"Turn around. Now."

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was used to being obeyed, and did as she ordered. Clenching my teeth, I pulled my back and shoulders away from the cool relief of the stone wall.

When Susan saw the condition of my tunic, ripped in long slashes and soaked with blood, she gasped in concern.

"Lion's mane," she breathed, pulling back the ragged cloth that barely hung together on my back so that she could see my wounds better. "They gave you a nice flogging, didn't they?"

I gasped as the fabric pulled away from the lashes. Susan hesitated a second, but then put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"This is going to hurt, Caspian," she said softly. "The dirt in your tunic will cause infection if it isn't removed quickly."

"Go ahead. I'm ready," I declared, my voice thick with pain. I clenched my hands into fists and bit my lip.

Painstakingly, Susan peeled the tunic from my back. By the time she finished, my lip was bleeding too, the scab from last night and this new wound both bleeding profusely. Several times I almost screamed from the torture of it; it felt like I was being flogged all over again. My back and shoulders were throbbing with pain by the time it was over, and I was only barely conscious.

"There," said Susan, rolling up my bloody tunic putting it down beside me. "If only we had some water."

She took a good look at my shoulders and shook her head at the bloody lashes that snaked across them.

"Who did this?" she asked me.

"It was done by Miraz's orders," I spat, pain suddenly fueling my hatred.

"The King? But why? Why doesn't he just kill you if you are a traitor or rebel or whatever he thinks you are? Why…" she hesitated as her eyes strayed to my back, "…why flog you first?"

By now, my mind was reeling with the pain that came from my aching back. The world began growing dim.

"Because he hates me. I'm…I'm his…" I never finished my sentence, for then the world faded into darkness and gave way to a black void, empty of pain, hate, or any other feeling.

* * *

Not five minutes passed in the black void of peace when a hand grasped my shoulder and began shaking. I muffled a cry in response to the sudden pain, and clenched my jaw tightly to keep tears from coming. When I lifted my eyes, my uncle stood above me.

My first thought was for Susan. Had she been caught? With a quick look toward the hay pile, I saw that she was safely hidden. Then I wondered what Miraz was doing here. A sudden stab of fear pierced my heart. They'd found the professor out. They would have had to for this kind of thing to happen. But I managed to set my mouth in a brave, determined line, and resolved not to be afraid.

"Good morning, boy," Miraz said, the disdain in his voice discounting any cheer that phrase might have held. "You slept well?"

I searched my mind for a biting retort. It took longer than it usually did, but at last, I found one.

"Quite," I said dryly, "Stone floors are quite comfortable when you've just been flogged. You should try it sometime."

My uncle's face darkened at my impudent reply, and I smiled ever so slightly. If he was going to kill me, I might as well deserve it. He reached down and grabbed my upper arm, hauling me to my feet and pushing me back against the rough wall. It grated against my wounds horribly, but I only clenched my jaw harder.

"I don't suppose you'd like another night like last, however comfortable you insist it was," Miraz said through gritted teeth, voice tense and angry. "Would you?"

I swallowed, and a hint of fear crept into my heart. I looked away.

"No."

He struck me and sent me sprawling to the floor.

"Weak!" he shouted, eyes blazing. "You are weak! Just like your father, like your mother."

Resentment swelled in my heart. How dare he speak so of the only people I loved?

"Leave my parents out of this," I said through my teeth. "They were braver and stronger than you'll ever be."

Miraz faltered for a moment, but then gave me a withering glare and put his hand on his sword hilt.

"Perhaps. Though neither resisted when I overcame them."

"When you murdered them, you mean," I spat bitterly.

A dark look flashed in my uncle's eyes, and I knew that I would not get to his conscience that way.

"You think you're very brave, don't you, boy?" he asked suddenly, in a voice softer than velvet. "Brave and strong—like _they_ were. Well, you're not."

"Leave me alone."

He took another step toward me, his eyes glinting with malice and hatred and delight, and shook his head.

"You should be glad your father's not here to see you, you sniveling brat. What would he think, the great 'King of Narnia', to see his firstborn son, the heir to the blessed throne, weeping like a woman in the tower?"

"Stop it!" I shouted, holding my hands over my head as if to stop the barrage of words that pierced more sharply than darts.

"The truth is, _Prince_ Caspian," he said, sneering at my title, "that you are nothing. A pathetic, friendless child who is all alone in a world of enemies. You are penniless—fatherless—worthless—," these words fell harsher than a blow, "and would doubtless be more than disappointing to the man who was once your father."

I had nothing to say. It was all I could do to keep from falling completely apart. Tears streamed down my face, but somehow I didn't care anymore whether he saw them or not. I was utterly exhausted, emotions, shoulders, and nerves raw from unrelenting attack. My head was buried in my arms, but I felt him kneel beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder. The hand that had killed my father.

"Tell me the name of the traitor."

I shuddered and drew back, trying to escape his voice, his command.

"Caspian!" I flinched and gritted my teeth, lifting my eyes. When I met his steely gaze, his hand tightened on my shoulder. He knew he was close to the answer.

"I…I…" My mind swam with pain and confusion. If I only told, it would all be over. The pain would leave. I could die in peace and join my mother and father. Of course, Narnia would also die. Dr Cornelius had said that I was the only hope for Narnia's freedom. But was it worth this?

"C…can't," I said at last, shuddering with the enormous effort, dropping my head into my arms, and waiting for whatever would follow. "Please, uncle, I can't."

Miraz stood quietly.

"You can. And will, after enough of these little chats, nephew."

I shuddered again and tried to ignore his horrible voice.

"I shall return when I please. Be that the middle of the night or two days hence is my choice. Think on what I said, nephew. Just one name and you're free to go."

I didn't answer. Miraz waited another long moment, but then turned to go. The guards followed, locking the door behind them with a loud clank. As soon as their footsteps had faded at the bottom of the stair, Susan came out of the hay.

"Caspian?" she said, sympathy in her tone.

"Leave me alone," I said with a great effort.

She walked over and sat down next to me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder despite my angry reply.

"We've simply got to get out of here."

* * *

_**TBC..........**_


	7. Tunnel

**A/N: Um. Okay. So, really embarrassed and sorry that it's been almost a full year since I updated this fic. Su almost chewed my head off about it...several times...but here we are at last, and the next few chapters are almost finished so we should see some stuff happening with (fairly) regular updates. If all goes well. Thank you thankyou for bearing with us and making it to read this next chapter.**

**To sum up: Poor Caspian is stuck in a tower with Susan in an AU version of PC. Miraz wants to kill him but is waiting until he knows the name of the traitor who revealed to Caspian the truth about Caspian IX's death. Caspian has been through both physical and psychological torment (poor lad) and at last Susan has learned the truth that he kept putting off telling her-that he is a prince of Narnia, nephew to the Usurper Miraz, and the rightful king.**

**So. Enjoy. Review. Watch for an update.  
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* * *

_Chapter 7_

Susan was oddly silent the rest of the day. Sulking for some reason, it seemed. I didn't notice until about an hour later, but when I did I made no comment. It seemed better to wait for her to speak than to speak myself. At last after she had been fixing her gaze on me for a long time, I raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's not that I don't feel sorry for you," she said, obviously torn between pity and anger, "but why did you lie to me?"

I looked away.

"I didn't lie. Not exactly."

"You're a prince. You told me you weren't. I knew last night that something wasn't right—hang it, I've known from the first time I saw you. Why didn't you admit it? Don't you trust me?"

"It's…it's not that, just that I didn't…I mean, I wasn't…I suppose I thought…"

Susan fixed me with a stare and then rested her chin on her palm.

"You suppose you thought what?"

I sighed.

"I don't know. I didn't know whether I _could_ trust you."

"So you admit you didn't trust me?"

I stared at her and shook my head. Did she have to have everything spelled out for her? I couldn't tell her who I was. Blast it, I hardly knew the girl. A little angrier than I should've, I replied, "I thought that was obvious by now."

There was a moment of silence. Susan's eyes met mine, and I looked away.

"Why don't you trust me?" she asked quietly.

I fidgeted as I struggled to answer the question—for I'd asked it myself several times in the past few days.

"I've never really trusted anyone before," I replied lamely, for lack of anything better to say.

"Haven't you now?" She sounded skeptical. "You have to have trusted someone."

"Not that I can recall." Not since my Nurse, and she was probably dead by now. Never could trust anyone in the castle, because they might tell Uncle if I did or said something about the stories she told me, and then I'd get into worse trouble than before. And heaven's knows I couldn't trust Miraz and his wife. I could understand why Miraz might hate me, but my aunt's hatred was something I could never understand.

I could feel Susan's eyes on me, watching with less anger and more compassion. It made me furious.

"Don't give me that pitying look you always put on. I don't need to trust anyone."

Why should I trust anyone? They've all betrayed me. I can get on all right on my own—I'm the only one I can trust to look out for my interests. For my life.

"What about your friend the professor?" Susan persisted.

I flinched and looked down. She had a point, I guessed. But even though he was a good friend—my only friend, really—could I trust him?

"I _rely_ on him. Not trust. It's not quite the same."

"Isn't it?"

There was a pause. I was getting tired of this silly debate. I just wanted her to leave me alone—wanted to sleep, to die, to be at rest. But she kept on at me like a dog chases a cat.

"What about Aslan? Don't you trust him?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, I stared at the stone floor. Aslan. I wanted to trust him—wanted with a lot of everything that was in me. But there was a nagging voice in my head that kept saying, "_You trust in someone now, and you'll just be betrayed again. You've never seen 'im, have you? Why trust in him?"_

"Well?" Susan pressed.

"I'm thinking!" I retorted sharply. Hard enough to think without talkative girls breaking your train of thought every time it gets going. After a moment or so of considering and choosing my words, I spoke.

"I don't even know whether Aslan exists or not. How can I trust something I don't believe in?" I felt a pang at saying it, but she wanted the truth and, dash it all, she would get nothing but the truth from now on out if that was what she wanted. "For all I know, he's just another part of the old stories."

"_Another_ part?"

"Um…" I hesitated and smiled weakly, "…like you."

"So," Susan began again, more animatedly this time, "you think I'm just an old fantasy, something created for bedtime entertainment and ballads?"

"I did, before I met you," I replied hastily. "But I can _see_ you and _talk_ to you—Aslan is something else altogether."

"So, just because you cannot see or talk to him you don't believe he exists?"

"Wouldn't you?" I let that sink in. Obviously she hadn't given it a whole lot of thought, because now she hesitated and her face grew thoughtful. "Tell me truly, did you believe in him before you met him?"

"I didn't believe in any of this," Susan said, her voice sounding slightly weary as she admitted it, "—but that's different. In my world this," she gestured around at the tower, and at me, "would be nothing but a fairytale."

"Well in my world, _you're_ nothing but a fairytale," I snapped back irritably.

"Am I?" she returned, just as crossly. Arguments do tend to either end or begin with tempers getting fired up.

"Yes. And have been for hundreds of years," I said with an emphatic nod. Then, after thinking a moment, I added, "In fact, I'm still not certain that you really are the _same_ Queen Susan who reigned all that time ago."

"The truth isn't the truth just because you believe it is," Susan returned with impeccable logic (though I didn't see it that way). "It's _always_ the truth—no matter what, and Aslan is the same way."

There was a silence that followed that was longer than any of the previous had been. The truth is the truth whether you believe it or not. Just as the sun will go on being the sun even if I don't believe there ever was a sun. But…if I believed that the world was round, or something ludicrous like that, just believing didn't make it so. Or to believe in…well, in fairy tales. It didn't make them exist.

"I'm still not convinced," I said fervently.

Susan stared at me long and hard with a far-off sadness in her gaze.

"What is it going to take for you to believe?" she asked, though the anger had gone out of her voice.

I shrugged.

"I don't know. A miracle?"

The silence began again as Susan considered this, looking down at the floor and combing her hand through her long hair before tossing it over her shoulder and tucking a stray piece behind her ear. She looked so forlorn for an instant that I forgot I was angry with her and only thought of something I had to do: apologize.

"I was…" she glanced up, but I swallowed my pride and continued, "I was wrong to lie. Will you forgive me?"

"That's a step in the right direction," she remarked with a small smile. "And yes, I do forgive you. Forget all that for a moment. There's something I've got to show you."

And then she pulled at a loose stone and opened a world of possibilities (not to mention removing all of the former conversation from my mind) as it came up out of the floor.

"Caspian the Seventh's tunnel!" I exclaimed with a gasp, diving forward and touching the rough, grime-encrusted edges of the hole gingerly. "However did you discover it?"

"I've been right on top of it the whole time," Susan said. Her voice was higher pitched with excitement, as was mine. "I found it when you were…" she glanced at me meaningfully and finished, "away."

"Ah. I see."

A twinge in my my back reminded me exactly of what she was talking about. I grimaced and pulled at my tunic (which I'd put back on earlier), hoping the wounds wouldn't break open again.

But the idea of a tunnel and escape soon relieved my mind of my worries. I stared down into the blackness and wondered how far down it went.

"We'll make our plans today and escape tomorrow night," Susan replied, flashing a glance toward the door. "I would say let's escape as soon as it gets dark, except that we haven't even begun thinking about what we'll do once we get out of the tunnel. Besides," she paused and gave me a curious look. "do you know where it leads?"

I shrugged and smiled in a way that was half-apologetic and half-worried. No idea of where it lead. No idea of what was down there, or even if it came out to anywhere at all. And mostly, not the faintest inkling of an idea of what we'd do once (or if) we were ever safe away.

"No," I replied, grinning again and taking a deep breath. "And therein lies the adventure."

* * *

We both fell asleep in the middle of our plans—around lunch time, probably—trying to figure out how we would get past the guards, and how to get into the stables, and how to find weapons, and so on. I must have fallen asleep very soundly, for the next thing I knew the sound of the tower door creaking open reached my ears. I awakened with a startled jerk just as our guard, Jarak, entered the room carrying a wooden tray with a tin cup and plate. And then I froze, because lying in the corner, in clear view, was Susan, sound asleep.

_Oh, Aslan. _It was all I could do not to stare at her as ice-cold fear flooded my veins. Perhaps if I kept his attention on me she would stay asleep and he would never notice. After all, she was in one of the shadows and it _was _getting dark out. I had to try. It was our only chance.

"Dinner for the Prince," jeered the guard, stepping forward and grinning down at me. "For the small price of a traitor's name."

The smell of fresh bread wafted cross the room and hit me like an elephant. My stomach convulsed, but I hardly noticed it thanks to the panic that sped the beating of my heart.

"I know of no traitors," I said clearly, though quietly. If Susan stayed asleep…perhaps that would be better than if she woke and moved. Any sound would surely catch the guard's attention.

Jarak let out a mocking sigh and flung the tin cup at me. It was filled, of course, with icy water that thoroughly soaked my tunic before I could catch it. He took a step back and laughed raucously. My eyes were frozen on his feet—_for he was but a foot away from Susan's outstretched hand!_

It took everything in me to drag my eyes back up to the man's face, pleading, "Won't you give me just one bite of bread?"

Laughing again brought Jarak another few inches back, and my heart stopped beating as Susan stirred. Though of course it continued beating because not even panic can do that. Not to most people, anyway.

"'Just one bite of bread'! The lads'll love that one! But maybe," Jarak's eyes took on a mocking gleam and he stepped forward—_Praise Aslan_!—, "maybe the Prince should have better manners. Don't you know how to say 'please', Princeling?"

He was wearing his sword very casually at his side. If he was distracted for just a moment…but no. Surely it would be easier if he simply left and Susan and I could escape at our leisure.

Jarak took a step more toward me, and Susan rolled over and let out a long sigh. We both froze. I could see the surprise and disbelief in the guard's eyes in the instant before he turned—which was the instant in which I closed mine.

The tray and plate clattered to the ground. Susan let out a little scream as she awakened, Jarak said, "What in Telmar—", and I jumped.

I slammed into the man hard enough to knock him to the ground, but he grabbed my arm and we both went down. He was cursing and trying to grab my arms for the first few seconds, but after I gave him a solid whack that set his nose bleeding, he began using his fists.

"How did—she get up here?" grunted the man as we grappled on the stone floor. "And who is she? The tower was empty."

"It's none of your concern who she is," I replied through gritted teeth, yelping as his knee knocked the air from my lungs.

The blow caused me to hesitate for a brief moment, in which Jarak managed to grab my arm and twist it behind my back. I shouted at the surprise of pain, and then felt lightheaded as the fresh wounds on my back reopened.

_Dear heaven...that hurt._

"The king will be most interested—," the guard began.

He never finished. There was a hollow sound as something wooden came swooping down and knocked Jarak firmly in the head. His eyes met mine for a long, confusing moment, and then rolled back into his head. As he collapsed to the ground, the slender form of Susan rose up from behind him. In her hands was the wooden tray, which she cast aside with a smile.

"Well. Won't need that anymore."

I stared at the prone guard and felt a shiver of destiny. This certainly threw off everything we had even begun to plan—for now someone would notice Jarak's absence and Susan would be found.

"We have to leave tonight," I said. Susan looked up at me with surprise, our eyes met in a long stare through which much was said silently, and then she nodded.

"Yes. There's nothing for it. If we're going to escape, we're going to have to do it now."

Quietly, we crawled over to the loose stone in the floor the hole that would soon be our way of escape (we had replaced it after she first showed it to me, for fear someone might come to the tower while we were planning). I put my hands on one side, and Susan grasped the rock on the other then together we dragged the stone out of its place. Panting from the exertion, we set the rock down. I wiped beads of sweat off my forehead, looked back at Jarak, and wondered if I should take his sword—but then decided against it. The passage below was going to be tight enough without extra baggage. We'd simply have to improvise if anything went wrong, or find other weapons along the way. After exchanging an excited glance, Susan and I turned back to the hole.

It was narrow, but I could tell that both my friend and I would be able to squeeze through. There were cobwebs past where the stone had been, and I squinted into the darkness, hoping that it led to freedom, and not to a dungeon.

"Maybe I should go first," I whispered, looking to Susan for an answer.

Her eyes were locked on the dark hole before us, and she swallowed hard before replying, "Maybe you should."

Taking a deep breath, I crawled forward, and then lowered myself down into the hole, feet first. To my surprise, I found handgrips on the sides of the tunnel, as if they had been left by Caspian the Seventh for the next unfortunate prisoner who was clever enough to find the escape. I heard Susan climb down after me, and then, slowly, we began our way downward.

The first few seconds were torturous, climbing carefully straight down the dark tunnel, clinging desperately to the rock in the hopes that we would not fall to our deaths if our fingers lost their hold, and yet hurrying for fear someone would miss Jarak and come looking. At last I felt solid rock beneath my feet again.

"There's floor here," I hissed.

Above, I heard a relieved sigh from Susan.

"Thank heavens! I was hoping it wasn't going to be like this the whole way."

I waited until Susan stood next to me on the stone, and then took a step forward. Into mid-air.

With a shout of surprise, I fell downward…until I came into contact with more hard stone. I landed on my left side, the fall knocking the air out of my lungs and bruising my upper leg badly.

I heard quick footsteps approaching, and then felt a hand grab my shoulder. Gripping my arm, Susan peered into my face, giving me a small, encouraging smile.

"Rule number one of exploring secret passageways: always check for stairs."

In the dim light, I hoped she couldn't see my face flush with embarrassment.

"Any broken bones?"

"None," I gasped, struggling to regain my breath.

Susan smiled again, and pulled me to my feet, giving me a meaningful look.

"Perhaps I should lead on from here," she remarked, sounding rather smug.

I didn't reply, so we continued on, this time with Susan in the front. After what must have been fifteen minutes—but felt like an hour—of groping about in the dark, we discovered a door. Susan twisted the handle, and I flinched as it opened with a loud creak. We stepped through, and then both sneezed simultaneously. The room was covered with several layers of dust, having not been occupied in at least twenty years, from what I figured. Shelves and racks were scattered here and there, and in one corner, I discovered a pile of old, rather rusty weapons. There were about ten swords; all but three were rusted away completely. I grabbed one up instantly, drawing the blade from the scabbard and inspecting it to check for any bad rusting that would render the sword useless. This was hard to do, as the only light we had was from a window on one wall, through which torchlight shone from the courtyard below.

As I sheathed the sword again, I heard another blade being drawn. Startled, I turned toward the sound, and, to my immense relief, found that it was only Susan, gazing steadily at a sword that she held.

"It's been a long time…" I heard her murmur. A wistful expression entered her eyes as she turned the blade this way and that so that it reflected the light.

"You can use a sword?" I asked, unable to veil my astonishment at this revelation.

Susan gave me an irritated look.

"Of course. Though not as well as the bow. I'm afraid my swordsmanship, like this weapon, is a bit rusty."

Was there no end to the surprises this girl had in store? But of course, she was a Queen of Old Narnia, a fact that I was still finding hard to believe. I shook my head at her, and then stepped lightly over to the window, taking care to keep in the shadows as I peered out into the courtyard.

"We're just past the armory," I whispered to Susan, who stood beside me, staring out at the men at arms below. "I guess this used to be an old wing, and then it fell into ruin and disuse for some reason. It's lucky that passage led us here, because the stables are only a stone's throw away."

I pointed across the courtyard to the wooden sign that swung over the stable's wide double doors.

"But how are we going to get across the courtyard without being spotted by the soldiers?" asked the ever practical Susan.

"Let me think for a moment."

I leaned back against the wall beside the window, my brow furrowed in concentration. How indeed. The soldiers would be alert and on the lookout for strangers, even at four in the morning. We could never run across the courtyard fast enough; not fast enough to evade their attention in time to saddle Destrier and another horse and be off.

"Caspian?"

"Be quiet. I'm thinking."

I fingered my sword thoughtfully. What were our assets? We had weapons, the element of surprise…I looked around the room carefully. Was there anything that could help us escape?

"Caspian?"

"Silence, please."

My gaze rested on a pile of old armor that lay in one corner of the dusty armory. Suddenly, all the pieces snapped into place.

"Got it!"

I scrambled forward and grabbed a few pieces of armor, struggling to put them on.

"There's no time for this," hissed Susan, following and watching me curiously. "What are you doing?"

I flashed her a quick grin as I pulled on a helmet.

"Putting my plan into action."

_**TBC...**_


	8. Escape

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.**

**A/N: Hurray! Another chapter! Aren't you so proud of Su and me? Yes, well, don't be too proud because the next chapter requires massive re-editing and we don't even have the next ones drafted yet, so stand by for updates but don't hold your breath. You might pass out. ;D**

**Enjoy.**

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_Chapter 8_

"This is impossible."

I shot Susan an exasperated look and adjusted my helmet so that it would—hopefully—cover my face in shadow.

"You're only saying that because you didn't think it up yourself," I retorted. She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

"Yes really. If you just keep quiet, everything will be perfect. Remember, you're a servant girl who's coming with me to saddle up a horse. I'm a messenger who's got an urgent message to take to Lord Sopespian at Beruna. What could go wrong?"

Susan flinched.

"Never say that," she hissed, closing her eyes and sighing. "Never, ever say that. Every time I hear the phrase 'What could go wrong?' something _always_ goes wrong. Bother. Let's go ahead and get it over with."

Taking a deep breath and praying that my plan would work, I stepped boldly out of the shadows, hand on my sword hilt. The two men standing guard started at the sight of me, and one brandished his spear at me.

"Whither dost thou go?" he asked, so loudly that I gritted my teeth in hopes that no one would awaken.

"To the stables," I replied, intentionally deepening my voice and trying to put on a harsh accent like the ones I had heard most of the messengers use. "I have been entrusted with an urgent message to Lord Sopespian at Beruna."

"But that's—" the soldier began, breaking off suddenly as his companion elbowed him.

"By whose orders do you carry this message?" inquired the second guard, hand on his sword hilt. "Answer me!"

"By the King's orders; King Miraz himself gave me this message, which is to be seen by Lord Sopespian's eyes alone," I replied, shrinking back as the man towered over me threateningly.

The men both took one step back uncertainly, neither wanting to interfere with a royal messenger. Then one of them noticed Susan by my side.

"And this girl? Surely she is not a messenger?" said the first man, recovering and glaring at her.

"She is a servant whom I have chosen to help saddle the horses. She is quick, and my errand is urgent," I replied, relieved that I had been able to remember all the words of my prepared excuse.

The second man prodded the first man and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded in reply, and the second man turned and broke out in a run toward the castle. I watched him go, unease replacing my relief. The guard noticed my look and spoke again.

"You are free to enter the stable," he said quickly, as if trying to appear at ease. "Saddle your horse, but do not depart until I give you leave."

I nodded gratefully and bowed, then walking briskly toward the stable door, Susan right behind me. When we both stood in the dark stable, with the sweet musky smell of horses around us, my friend let out a sigh of relief.

"That was amazing."

"Why thank you," I replied, grinning cockily. "It was rather good, wasn't it?"

Susan gave me a disgusted look.

"Not you. It was amazing that we weren't caught immediately. I'd be willing to bet that one guard is going to ask the king whether he really sent a messenger or not."

"In which case, we'd better hurry."

I led Susan quickly through the aisles, until we stood before Destrier's stall. I pulled the gate open and patted my stallion's neck, and he sniffed my hand curiously.

"Hullo, Destrier," I whispered, smiling as he threw his head back and snorted. "Ready for a ride?"

"Which horse should I saddle?" asked Susan, standing uncertainly in the aisle.

I glanced at her quickly, and then back at Destrier.

"You can saddle him, if you like. I'll find one for you to ride."

She swept past me and patted my horse on the nose, smiling sweetly at him.

"I'm sure we're going to get along just perfectly," she murmured to him, stroking his neck gently.

Rolling my eyes, I turned away and began looking for another good horse. A few stalls down stood Jade, a lovely mare that was a particular favorite of my aunt's. Quickly, I stepped into her stall and patted her. I grabbed her bridal from the hook and held the bit up to the mare's mouth. Jade's ears went back, and she stamped the ground anxiously, raising her head so that it was too high for me to reach.

"Come on, Jade," I muttered impatiently, sighing and rubbing her neck. "Calm down. It's just a little ride."

I tried again with the bit, but this time, Jade threw her head back and whinnied loudly. It was then that I noticed other noises; the sounds of shouting and the thumping of feet.

"We've been found out," I gulped, dropping the bridle and sprinting toward Destrier's stall. "Hurry, Susan! They're coming!"

Susan stood in the aisle, leading Destrier calmly toward the door. When she saw me running toward them, she gasped in alarm.

"The other horse--?"

"No time," I panted, pushing past her toward the door. "We have to get out—now!"

I shoved the door open, and Susan led my stallion into the courtyard. In one side street, I could see the light of a dozen torches, rapidly coming our way. Swallowing my fear, I knelt and held out a hand.

"Mount."

Without hesitating, Susan put her foot in my hands, and swung up into the saddle. I reached up and prepared to mount behind her, but the ringing of a sword being drawn reached my ears from behind.

"Go!" I shouted, drawing my sword and swinging it in an arc as I whirled around to face my attackers.

My blade met another with a loud clash, and the soldier in front of me parried my blow away easily. Then, he swung his sword at my head; I ducked, and then kicked his shins, so that he stumbled away, cursing angrily. Instantly, another soldier took his place. This one was better than the first, and I had trouble blocking his blows. Thoughts flitted through my mind. I risked a quick glance around the courtyard. Susan was nowhere in sight. This filled me with both relief and anxiety. Relief because that meant that my friend had escaped, but anxiety because I wasn't sure what they would do to me when I had been caught again.

I heard the whistle of arrows around me, and glanced up at the castle wall. Six men stood in a line, each of their deadly crossbows aimed at me.

_So this is where it all ends._

"Caspian!"

I could've fainted as the voice of Susan came floating to me from across the wind. The guard I was fighting took advantage of this distraction and brought his sword down on my shoulder. The mail, which was all that was protecting me, as the breastplate and shoulder pieces did not fit together on this old armor, miraculously held together, but the sheer force of the blow sent me to my knees. The soldier's sword drove the mail into my shoulder. It hurt like the dickens.

"Caspian, jump!"

I looked over my shoulder, and saw Destrier, pummeling toward us with eyes blazing. Dropping my sword, I stood and leapt toward them. Susan held out her hand, and somehow swung me up behind her into the saddle. Destrier reared up, almost sending both of us tumbling off, and then I shouted, "Go that way! Toward the gate!" and we were away.

As the hooves of my horse clattered rapidly on the stone pavement of the street, my heartbeat quickened. Might we actually escape? I had made the plan hoping that we would, but never actually dreamed it would work. But then I bit back a groan as a sudden motion in the gatehouse resulted in a clanging noise. The portcullis was coming down.

"Hurry, Destrier, hurry!" I screamed, leaning forward in the hopes that it would help.

An arrow whistled past my ear, alerting me to another danger. The men with the crossbows on the walls were shooting at us. Three more flew by, and then one came too close, passing me and hitting Susan in her left shoulder. My friend cried out, and I swallowed hard, grabbing the arrow and breaking the shaft, leaving the part with the arrowhead in her wound.

"Come on, Su," I hissed, grabbing her around the waist and holding her in the saddle. "We're almost to the gate."

The portcullis was almost halfway down now, and we were riding with such haste and determination that I barely heard Susan's whispered words.

"We're not going to make it."

Hot tears sprang to my eyes, and I clenched my jaw with stubborn defiance.

"Yes we are."

Adjusting my position on the seat, I held onto Susan tightly. Then, leaning forward to avoid arrows, I kicked Destrier's flanks and screamed "Run, Destrier! Faster!"

My valiant stallion, having heard these words many times when I raced with him in the green meadows around the castle, knew exactly what they meant. His tread seemed to slow, but in actuality, he was going faster, making every step a leap as he galloped toward the portcullis. It was more than halfway down now. Another arrow whistled by us, and then one came to close, grazing my head and leaving a jagged cut across my temple. I flinched, but bit my tongue in time to keep from crying out. The portcullis loomed above us, falling bit by bit. Breathing hard, but still praying my plan would work, I kicked Destrier with another shout, and he thundered forward…just barely managing to slip under the portcullis in time. It was so close that the iron spike at the end caught on my collar as it came down, ripping the back of it out.

As Destrier galloped down the drawbridge, I threw my hands in the air. I wanted to shout, to scream for joy. We were free. We had escaped the Dark Tower, and Miraz's Castle. We had done the impossible, and my plan _had _worked after all. But then as I heard the sound of more arrows whizzing by I realized this was not the time for rejoicing. The Telmarines in the castle were shouting angrily, trying to get the portcullis back up, I surmised. The archers on the walls were shooting at us, though. Suddenly, I jerked forward and felt a sharp pain in my right upper arm, almost my shoulder. I looked to see what it was, and found, to my dismay and astonishment, that it was an arrow. A cry escaped my lips as pain flooded my arm when I tried to move it. Quickly, I broke the shaft of the arrow, like I had with Susan's, and tried to ignore the throbbing of my injury.

Susan had managed to recover a bit from her wound, and now shouted, "Which way?"

Gritting my teeth and resolving to bear this like a warrior, I gestured weakly to the south, my heart sinking as I took in the dark forests that lined the horizon there. I didn't like the woods. No Telmarine did. The stories told about them in the marketplace gave more than one child nightmares in the dark. Trees. Living trees.

Susan guided Destrier to the South.

"We're going to Archenland?" she shouted above the wind, which had suddenly begun blowing.

"Anvard!" I replied, hoping our voices wouldn't carry back to the castle.

Susan gave Destrier a prod with her heels, and we began again, galloping across the dark fields to freedom, and to Anvard.

_**TBC...**_


	9. Storm

_Chapter 9_

It was about one in the afternoon when we stopped beside a creek to rest. We had entered the woods shortly after we left the castle, but somehow they didn't feel as threatening as they had always seemed before. I wondered for a moment if it was because Susan was with me, but then decided that was ridiculous.

By the time the sun was past the midday mark, both of us were tired and sore, legs aching from hard riding. In all actuality we hadn't meant to stop until later, but when we reached a small creek in the midst of a sort of woody glade, Susan fainted, nearly falling off Destrier's back. I barely caught her in time; pulling Destrier up, I slid to the ground, sliding my friend off after me. I felt a ripping pain in my arm as I lifted her down, but ignored it, gritting my teeth stolidly.

I left Susan on a pile of pine needles, and staggered over to the stream where Destrier had already plunged his nose into the cool water. I knelt beside it, took a long, wonderful drink of the water, and then splashed some on my hot face, wincing as my fingers brushed the throbbing arrow cut on my temple. I gathered some water in my hands after I'd had my fill and walked carefully back toward Susan. When I reached her, I splashed the cold water on her face, biting my lip anxiously as I waited for her to awake. When she did not, I sighed worriedly and plopped down beside her, trying to decide what to do next.

It was only then that I saw the blood on the sleeve of her dress and remembered the arrow that had hit her in the shoulder, the arrow that I had broken off to keep the wound from agitating. I clenched my fists and cursed under my breath, angry at myself for insisting that we should keep going for so long. Susan had held up better than I had, bearing her wound like a hero, and—as I realized then—like the Queen she claimed to be.

I went back to the stream and cupped my hands to hold more water, thinking carefully about what I would do when I returned. At last, gently, I poured the water over Susan's wound and then, gritting my teeth and praying that I wouldn't make things worse for my ignorance, I pulled what was left of the arrow out the girl's shoulder. It wasn't easy in coming. When I realized I would have to do more than just ease it out, I swallowed hard. I had never seen an arrow wound being treated before, and had only heard from my tutor, Dr Cornelius, concerning how to remove one.

At last I got it out. Susan moaned in her sleep and twisted away from the pain. But it was over—tears of relief blurred my vision, though they might have been tears of weariness as well. I dashed them away quickly.

When my hand came away, there was blood on it. I stared at the crimson stain for what felt like an age and stumbled forward as my vision blurred again, though not from tears. Blackness eclipsed everything else, but then faded again.

Trying to ignore the pounding in my head, I swallowed and retrieved some more water from the stream with which I washed Susan's wound as gently as my trembling hands would allow. I then ripped a few strips of cloth off my cloak and dressed her cut to staunch the bleeding—though I wasn't sure how much of a guard it would be against infection.

This done, I went back to the stream and washed my hands. The blood gave the clear water a pinkish tint, but faded away like smoke in a breeze. I touched my eyes again, shakily, but there was no blood on my hand when I looked to see.

_Of course, _I thought, sighing at my own stupidity and fear. _It was just blood from Susan's wound. I must be more tired than I know._

Somehow my legs refused to hold my weight any longer, so I crawled back to the tree, a few feet away from where I'd laid Susan.

_Got to keep watch_, I thought, drawing my sword half-way. _Can't…let them…find…_

My sword slid back into its sheath. I slept.

* * *

The next thing I remembered was a sharp pain in my arm and someone shaking me awake.

_Go away…so tired…ouch! Let me sleep! _

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, and almost fainted with relief when I saw Susan staring down at me.

"Caspian!" she exclaimed, leaning back against the tree with a sigh of relief. "I woke up and you were unconscious, and I didn't know what to…"

"It's all right, Susan," I told her, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her an encouraging look. "Everything is all right now. I'm fine. You were the one that was wounded. How is your shoulder?"

Susan reached up and touched her shoulder gingerly, opened her mouth to speak…and caught sight of my right arm. She let out a cry. I tried to hide my gash with my cloak, but it was too late.

"You're wounded too!" she cried, giving me an irritated look. "Really, Caspian. You might have said something sooner. You're just like my brother—like both of my brothers—hang it, like _all_ my siblings!"

I grabbed my arm and glanced at the broken off arrow, flinching as pain coursed through my arm.

"There's no time," I hissed, standing quickly and pulling Susan to her feet.

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes aflame. "There's at least enough time to dress your wound. As far as I know, we have all the time in the world."

"That's not true," I shot back, giving her an annoyed look. "Look."

I pointed at a clearing about a mile away. We watched for a moment, and then a wide line of horsemen appeared. Susan bit back a gasp of surprise, and grabbed me on the shoulder.

"How long have you known that they were there?" she asked in alarm.

"Since I fell asleep," I replied with a grim smile. "They've been weaving in and out of the woods—looking for us. But it wasn't any use trying to go anywhere. You were unconscious, and I was too tired to move. But now we have to run."

Susan hesitated, and then nodded her agreement. I helped her up onto Destrier as gently as I could and swung onto his back behind her.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride in front?" she asked politely, turning half-way in the saddle while Destrier pranced eagerly. "After all, I'm not sure I know where we're going."

"I've never been to Anvard," I replied, shaking my head slowly. "And I'd be willing to bet that you know the way better than I do."

Susan gave me a surprised look.

"You really do believe me," she said, eyes gleaming with gratitude. "That I'm the real Queen Susan."

I looked away, and shook my head.

"No…not entirely. Though," I amended under my breath, "it's beginning to seem awfully likely."

She sighed and turned away, and I felt a pang of regret. I hadn't meant to hurt her feelings again. But it seemed so blasted easy—perhaps I should try to be more careful with my words from here on out. Susan turned Destrier so that he faced the south, and we began our way toward Anvard again.

After about a mile of hard cantering through the forest, Susan slowed Destrier to a walk and turned in the saddle so she could face me.

"How is your arm?" she asked, her eyes demanding that I tell the truth.

"It's fine; it hardly even hurts now," I told her honestly. It was true; my entire arm was numb, and only occasionally did I feel little twinges that reminded me I still had an arm.

Susan nodded slowly, though there was concern in her eyes, and turned back, spurring Destrier on. Above the dark boughs of the trees, I noticed that the sky was getting darker. When we rode out into a small clearing, we saw the reason.

"A thunderstorm," Susan whispered, drawing Destrier back to a walk as we watched the black clouds rolling toward us.

I nodded, and prodded her gently in the back. We needed to keep going if we wanted to stay ahead of Miraz's scouts. Before us, woods stretched out on every side; wild heaths dotted the land where the trees let up, and before us. Looming over the land ominously were huge blue mountains, bigger than any I had ever seen before. The world was so…big. And I was so small.

Susan and I rode up and down the hilly country, with every step drawing closer to the huge mountains. At the top of each ridge, Susan would watch the progress of the thunderstorm, which was coming steadily nearer. I paid less attention to the storm because of the mountains, which seemed to grow bigger and blacker each time I glanced their way. They towered over us, craggy and dark, though not as dark as the sky.

Finally, afternoon became evening. Susan directed Destrier into a dark pine forest; the trees swayed as the wind picked up and whispered, "Goooooo baaaack…" in strange, eerie voices. Susan didn't seem to notice. As we kept on and it began to rain I kept trying to ignore the stories that played over and over in my mind; the stories about the Telmarines who had disappeared into the forest and never returned.

_I'm a Telmarine, _I thought, my heart trembling at the thought. _Do the woods hate me too?_

But the woods didn't hate Susan. She rode before me, tall and brave in the pouring rain, every now and then humming a snatch of a song that sounded as ancient and magnificent as the thought of the four kings and queens returning.

_Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy_, I thought, running over the names again and again in my mind. _Four kings and queens; four thrones._

Eventually, however, my mind turned to other matters. The woods creaked angrily in the roaring wind. There came a crash from above that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. A tree fell right across the road, just behind us. Destrier jumped back, quivering all over.

"Quiet, Destrier," Susan said soothingly, patting my stallion's neck. "It's just a little thunder."

I was trembling too. The tree had just barely missed us. We would all have been dead if it had hit us. Death had come just inches away, and she was saying it was 'just a little thunder'?

"Susan?"

The girl turned in the saddle to look at me, and a small smile crossed her face when she saw what was no doubt a look of terror on mine.

"What on earth's wrong?" she asked casually, as if we weren't lost in the dark woods in the middle of the storm, as if we weren't about to die all alone by the mountains someplace, as if we weren't surrounded by everything that had been the enemy of my people for ages and centuries. "You're not afraid of a little rain are you?"

"Of course not," I said, sitting up a bit straighter in the saddle, clenching my jaw determinedly, and tossing my dripping hair out of my eyes.

Susan nodded in satisfaction and turned back to face the front again. I swallowed my fear and resolved to be as calm and serene as she was. But suddenly a jagged streak of lightning flashed and a great crack of thunder seemed to break the sky in two. Destrier reared—I grasped for something to hold onto and managed to hook an arm around Susan, who was leaning forward. Before my stallion's front feet even touched the ground again, he was leaping forward, bolting, running from the noise and light. The change in direction and abruptness of his leap almost left me lying on the forest floor, but my fingers clung onto the saddle and Susan's waist. I could hear her shouting to him, trying to get him to stop, to slow, to _anything_ other than run, but it was no use. Whenever Destrier panicked, he ran.

And he usually didn't stop for quite a while.

At last Susan gave up screaming at him and we both hung on for dear life. Tree after tree that rose up before us in the driving rain, each of which we managed to avoid striking. Destrier's gait was bumpy and full of abrupt turns and queer little jerks. As he jumped a fallen log, my teeth bit down on my tongue, and I tasted blood. My vision swam as rain and my dripping hair blew in my face. I blinked my eyes rapidly, closed them for a second, and took a deep breath.

"Help us, Aslan!" Susan screamed.

Destrier plunged onward still, splashing mud from the ground onto our cloaks and faces. All at once, Susan leaned forward, shouting "Duck!"

I had no time to respond, and before I knew exactly what was happening, something struck my forehead like a hammer strikes an anvil, dislodging me from the saddle. I slammed hard into the ground, landing in something wet that gave, though the ground beneath it was hard. There was something sticky on my face, and my eyes didn't seem to be working at all. From somewhere that seemed very far away, I heard—or at least I thought I heard—the roar of a lion. Then blessed oblivion fell, and everything faded into night.

_**TBC...**_


	10. Narnians

**A/N: Something has finally happened. Susan and Caspian have split companies, so now there IS reason to read Susan's version of this story. Because she is off having a wild adventure while Caspian goes off on his own little...thing. Anyhow in this chapter we finally get to meet some other important people (BOOKVERSE). Enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter 10_

Darkness.

All around me, there was nothing. Absolute desolation. The sun was gone. If it was night then it was a black night with no stars blinking in the heavens or moon to cast a silver light across the land.

Then two points of light shone in the blackness around me: two planets in conjunction in the heavens. I heard a voice speaking in a clear, soft tone. It said:

"Tarva and Alambil have met in the halls of heaven. On earth, a Son of Adam has risen to name the creatures and rule over us."

My heart leapt. Tarva and Alambil. The names sounded familiar, but I couldn't place them. I only knew that they had to do with me in some way or another. Then another voice, low and dangerous, replied to the first.

"A Son of Adam, yes; but which will be chosen? The old or the new? The known or the stranger? The loved or the hated? The trusted or the doubted? Who will be chosen to fulfill the prophecy?"

My stomach flip-flopped as the voice finished its speech. This new voice sounded wicked, and evil. Were the words supposed to mean something?

_It's a riddle_, I realized, swallowing hard._ Am I to figure it out?_

"One will be chosen, the other despised," the voice continued, drawing out the 's' in 'despised' so that it sounded like a snake's hissing. "But a time will come when all depends on the unexpected. Twists and turns by the dozen; failings and frustrations—until Narnia faces what may be the end."

There was a bitter, horrible silence until, to my relief, the first voice spoke again.

"Aslan has already decided the fate of Narnia. All we must do is trust in him."

Tarva and Alambil faded away, and I watched, my heart aching as they disappeared into the blackness.

_Wait…don't go_, I tried to scream, reaching for them. _I don't understand…don't know what to believe…_

"…you know very well what I believe, Nikabrik, and that is that all we can do is trust in Aslan."

I jerked awake when a low, earthy voice spoke in the silence. To my relief, I found that the darkness, the stars, even the riddle, had all been a dream, for when I cracked my eyes open they were greeted by a warm, welcome brown light that hung heavily in the air around me. From above came the sound of rain thudding rhythmically against the roof of the place in which I lay.

I was lying on a small bed, barely long enough for me to lay stretched out. I was wrapped in a soft brown blanket, and most importantly, I was _warm_, something I hadn't been since the night of my cousin's birth. I reached up and touched my head, finding a gauzy fabric that seemed to be a sort of bandage. I winced as a sharp pain flashed in my head, and then a dull ache began. There was a coppery taste in my mouth.

"Trust in 'Aslan', you say? Bah. None of those old stories are real, now are they?" another voice said, harsh and low, yet not fully evil. I flinched at the sound, wondering where I was, and whether I was a prisoner.

"Apparently _some_ of them are," said another voice dryly, and there came a few chuckles from the others.

I stared at the wall until my vision cleared, and saw my shadow. A gentle, flickering light seemed to be coming from behind me. I waited for a moment, and then heard a crackle, and then a fizz.

_A fire. A _wood_ fire, _I thought, grateful for the lessons I had received from Dr Cornelius in observing my surroundings.

"But what are we going to do?" asked a new voice, younger than the others, belonging perhaps to a boy about my age. "I still don't understand what all this means."

"Neither do the rest of us," replied yet another voice, younger still, "but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out, once he's awake."

Curiosity overwhelming me, I rolled onto my back and landing squarely on my wounded arm—_ouch!_—and then turned my head to face the fire. From my new position, I could just barely make out the silhouettes of five people, sitting between me and the fire. Two of them were tall, perhaps Telmarine soldiers, I thought with a shudder. I had been captured. Now they would turn me in to Miraz, and I would be…

_Wait…didn't one of them mention Aslan?_ I wondered suddenly, hope filling my heart. _Perhaps they're not Telmarines. Perhaps they mean to _help _Susan and—_

My heart skipped a beat. _Susan_. I sat up quickly, but then jerked to a stop when another wave of pain crashed through my head. This time I could not stifle a moan as I clenched my jaw, trying to stop my head from spinning.

The five figures all started; they all turned to look at me with fearful, startled expressions. I was surprised to see that the two tall figures, whom I had assumed to be the Telmarine soldiers, were really two boys, and the smaller figures were short men with long beards. I couldn't make out the fifth figure, but it lunged toward me, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder and pushing me back down. I closed my eyes as I sank back to the bed, head throbbing.

"Lie still, now," it said in what I recognized to be the earthy voice that I'd heard upon awakening. "That head of yours won't take kindly to any jerking about."

I opened my eyes to see what this person looked like, and let out a shout of surprise when I realized what it was.

It was unmistakable: the white patches on its cheeks and the long, slender snout with whiskers at the end. The creature before me was a badger.

"You can…can talk?" I gasped; my heart was beating wildly, and I wondered that I did not faint, so great was my amazement.

The two short men stepped closer, and I now saw that they were not men, as I had first thought, but dwarves, one with a black beard, and one with a red one.

"Obviously," the red dwarf remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow and searching my face with a sharp gaze.

The black dwarf drew a knife and took a step toward me.

"Just as I thought. Only a _Telmarine_ wouldn't know of talking beasts." He spat the word out like poison. "Let's kill it now."

The two boys sprang to their feet. My eyes widened, and I grabbed for my sword only to find, to my dismay, that it was no longer by my side. I sat up, and my head spun; I scrambled backward as quickly as I could. Swallowing my fear and panic, though my eyes were wide with fright, I watched my attacker warily.

To my relief, the red dwarf stepped in the black dwarf's way.

"That's quite enough from you, Nikabrik," he said warningly. "We're not going to be killing anyone."

"Do try to behave yourself," the badger added. "After all, the boy isn't going to be leaving anytime soon; not with that bruise on his forehead."

Another wave of pain and nausea hit me like a brick wall, and I grabbed my head with my hands, gritting my teeth and trying not to cry out. The badger pushed me back patiently and put a surprisingly cool hand on my forehead—surprisingly cool for all the fur, that is.

"Just what I feared," it murmured. "Your fever's back. Look what you've done now, Nikabrik. Frightening the poor lad with threats of murder."

The badger gave the black dwarf an admonishing look and then waddled over to a table, coming back with something in its hands.

"Drink," it instructed, holding a cup to my lips.

I sat up slightly and did as ordered. The liquid that flowed down my throat was sweet, but it scalded my tongue, and I swallowed quickly. When all the liquid was gone, I rested my head back on the pillow. Then, I remembered the questions that pressed to be asked.

"How…how long have I been unconscious?" I asked the badger, wincing at the hoarseness of my voice.

"It has been a day and a half since we found you outside our door," it replied, sitting down in a chair nearby and watching me with bright brown eyes.

"What is this place?"

The black dwarf made an impatient motion.

"Do you really expect us to answer that?" he snarled. "Just so you can escape and betray us to your Telmarine friends."

I shrugged and glanced at the two boys, who were watching me warily from beside the fire. They hadn't spoken since they'd known I was awake, though I was certain that their voices were the ones I had recognized as the younger ones. Suddenly, another question, so important that I half sat up again, entered my mind.

"Where's Susan?"

One of the boys gasped, and the other made a sharp movement, betraying his surprise. After exchanging a look, the taller boy stepped toward me. His eyes were blue like the black dwarf's, but they weren't nearly as cold.

"Susan? Not Susan _Pevensie_? You've seen her?"

I sat up a bit straighter, ignoring the pain in my head as well as I could, and glared at the boy defiantly.

"I swear if you've done anything to hurt her, I'll—"

I choked on my fury, unable to finish the sentence. The tall boy let out a genuine laugh, turning to the smaller boy.

"_Hurt_ her? Us?"

I watched him with growing apprehension and curiosity. Finally, the question that welled up in my mind could not be held back any longer.

"Who _are_ you?"

The boy glanced at the other boy, and then bowed slightly-a bit awkwardly.

"Peter Pevensie, once King of Narnia. This is my brother, Edmund, also a King. And the reason that we would not hurt Susan—if, of course, we knew where she was—is that she is our sister."

I gasped audibly as this sank in. My eyes darted from one to another. Edmund bowed slightly when my gaze fell on him and watched me curiously. Peter met my gaze squarely; our eyes stayed locked for a moment.

High King Peter the Magnificent. It had to be him, for although he was much younger than the King Peter who'd fought Giants and held court in the old tales and histories, there was something about the way he moved, the way he met my gaze with a wisdom beyond his years in his ancient blue eyes; something noble. Something magnificent.

Awestruck, I bowed my head, for it was not often one found oneself in the presence of a king—much less the High King of legend. I would have knelt but that being in bed made the idea seem both melodramatic and ridiculous.

"Your Majesty," I stammered instead, "I…I never even imagined…that is, I didn't mean—"

"Hang it, Peter, say something," King Edmund put in. "Heaven knows what he's heard about us, but if they've been saying that you have to stare at the ground when we're in the vicinity we'd best set him straight at once."

There was a wryness in his voice, young and boyish though it was, that made me glance up. There was a sparkle of mischief in those brown eyes as he grinned and said, "That's more like it," a sparkle that made the knot in my stomach unclench if only a little.

"Edmund's right," King Peter added, the noble ancientness in his eyes shifting to apology. "I didn't mean to frighten you. We mean you no harm; and if, as you say, you are concerned for my sister (if she was the Susan you were talking about) I don't see that we have any cause to mistrust you."

A growl from one side made the knot in my stomach re-clench. The black dwarf was glaring at me, looking as though he'd rather run an arrow through me than sit watching.

"There's plenty of cause to mistrust him," he said loudly. "Ain't he a Telmarine? Ain't he dressed in royal-looking clothes?"

"Never seen any royal clothes so ripped up looking before," muttered the red dwarf, while I flushed self-consciously. "And yet he doesn't talk like a commoner."

"What can you tell us of Susan?" asked King Peter, ignoring all the others.

"Who are you?" asked the red dwarf, furrowing his orangey eyebrows and stroking his beard.

"And why shouldn't we just kill you right now?" the black dwarf blasted, drawing his knife.

I jerked back at his shout, and a sudden twinge of pain reminded me of my arrow-wound. I winced and grabbed my upper arm with my left hand. Before I knew it, the badger was at my elbow, holding my arm in its furry hands—paws?—and inspecting it carefully.

"Stop with your questions, my friends; they'll wait until our young friend is healed. What's this?" it asked, pulling my tunic sleeve back to reveal the bloody gash that was torn across the back of my arm—just below the shoulder. "I didn't see this before."

"Arrow," I grunted, flinching as the badger prodded the skin around the wound. "Not as bad as it could be."

Edmund pushed past his brother and stood beside the badger.

"The arrowhead's still in there," he said after a moment. "It'll have to come out."

I raised my gaze and found him staring at me with compassionate brown eyes. I nodded, and then fell back on the bed. My head was spinning like mad. I opened my eyes to say something, but everything was blurry, and then seemed to be very far off. Dark fringes closed in on the bright colors, and then everything went black again.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Caspian. It seems almost every chapter 'everything goes black' or something. :P Hopefully after this he'll stop fainting and get over it. Comments? I would love to hear from you. :)**

**TBC...**


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